Masque of the dread shopping trip

So, we’ll all be required to wear masks now when we’re out shopping for bacon, cucumbers, American cheese and whatever else was on that stupid list my wife gave me but which I totally lost when I stopped to pet a stray dog. It’s really a shame that Halloween masks aren’t approved for this because oh, the fun I could have. My leering Joker mask alone would cause horrified women to scoop up their children and abandon their carts full of loot right there in the rice and beans aisle. The Big Bad Wolf mask would draw frowns from the store manager as he mulled the question of whether I really was somebody’s service dog. And I’ve got a terrifying green goblin mask that would be perfect for springing up out of a produce bin to surprise those people who spend a little too long squeezing the tomatoes. Seriously, stop squeezing those things and get yourself some therapy.

Scrubba dub

Every time I pull into the grocery store parking lot, I’m alarmed by a steady slurp of squishing sounds coming from all around me. I expect that kind of thing on Bartlett Street, but at The Hannaford? To my relief, the sound is only that of fastidious shoppers engaging in the sacred hand sanitizer ritual. Seems the ritual these days involves lubing up on the way into the store, on the way out of the store and two or three times in between. Seriously, why don’t they just put a dunk tank in there and fill it with sanitizer? You gotta make it fun.

No spring for you!

When she issued her latest order, did Governor Mills also command that spring be shut down? Because, while we enjoyed about 10 minutes of 60-degree weather on Wednesday, it’s otherwise been the same old blech of cold drizzle, icy winds, gray skies and rumors of snow. It’s May, for crying out loud. I was really looking forward to throwing a beach down on my driveway and pretending it was Palace Playland. Was even going to pay to park there just to make it feel real authentic.

How they bitin’?

Photographer and part-time superhero Russ Dillingham has a real knack. We could find ourselves smack dab in the middle of Armageddon, with entire cities ablaze with fire and the entire world a smoldering ruin, and he’d still be able to find some dude out calmly fishing somewhere. That’s talent. Or possibly a fetish.

Love, quarantine-style

Word on the street is that with so many people working from home, lots of folks are finding themselves pining for that special co-worker they consider their “work spouse.” This concept is entirely new to me. Clearly I’m way to cool to have a work spouse, myself, (although if I do, it’s fellow reporter Chris Williams) but if you’re one of those people, we’d like to hear all about your special relationship and how you’re dealing with the pain of separation. Send your lovelorn tales of work spouse woes to me at mlaflamme@sunjournal.com. In the meantime, try going to the grocery store and squeezing some tomatoes. It’s amazing what a comfort it is.

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