File 71 - Puzzle of the Pandemic Parcel


The sound slices through the humdrum clamor of a typical day in isolation. Everyone freezes in place.  Then, eyes wide, look from one face to another.  The expressions of shock, anticipation, feigned confusion and suspicion forming.  This melodic sound no longer signals the arrival of someone.  It signals the arrival of something.  But, what?  And, for who?  Is it something that I innocently forgot to mention to my husband, that I ordered?  Is it food?  It's the puzzle of the pandemic parcel.

Okay, fine.  It may not be that great of a mystery.  Two of the people that live in this house, are not old enough to have a credit cards or an Amazon account.  This does not mean that there are not items in said parcel for said tiny humans.  Yet, due to their age and lack of financial means, they are cleared as suspects in the delivery melodrama.  That leaves two.  Equal access. Ample opportunity.  One looking agitated.  One not looking.  At the other. In the eyes.

This is definitely not an isolated incident.  These little step surprises. Boxes filled with normalcy and joy.  I mean, once you can get inside it, after wiping it down with disinfectant wipes, emptying the contents and vigorous hand washing.  In the beginning, these were panic purchases.  Meaning that they were purchased to try and quell the angst rising with the uncertainty of the pandemic.  Scrolling through the endless selections of spring sweaters and summer rompers, creates a soothing distraction from Anxiety's constant blathering about the end of the world.  She is a doomsdayer and this is the stage that she has been working towards her whole life.  So, in a concerted effort to block out the fretting, some garments may have found their way into my virtual shopping bag and through the virtual checkout.  It's virtual retail therapy and it's healthy.

Then, as the realization sunk in, that there would be no use for clothing, other than jammies and yoga gear for the foreseeable future, the parcels became necessities.  Printer paper for the home school/office, workbooks for the littles, murder mystery books, snacks.  Is there anything more comforting than opening a book and breathing in the intoxicating scent of paper and ink?  What?  It's a thing.


The sound that signals that something has arrived from the outside world.  The sound that reminds us that life still does exist on the other side of our walls.  That one day we will be able to wear that adorable pale blue cardigan out and about.  Puzzle of the pandemic parcel - solved.  It is a necessity, a comfort item, or a dress that had a sale price to good to pass up.  Regardless of what it is, it breaks up the monotony of this pandemic period.

Does Mommy need to lose her shit?

Not this week.