When instant isn't an option (Day 6 of 10 Days of Gratitude)

The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali

I'm used to instant.

Three minutes tops -- sometimes just two, to boil the water, add the oats and cook.  Another few minutes to eat and clean up.  Then after a quick off-to-work kiss, up to the study to start on the morning's to-do list.

But the grocery store was all out of the 2-3 Minute Oatmeal.  Both times I checked.  So now I'm using the 4-5* Minute variety, and on closer inspection of the label I've discovered that the * in the 4-5* is for microwave cooking.  Because I prefer a stove-top pot I'm in for a 15-minute wait that turns into 20 because I put in too much water.

So I'm sitting with Japhia in the living room with an unexpectedly unplanned, unproductive quarter-hour to kill.  Or fill.

We start by talking about the oatmeal.  Which leads to the grocery store.  To shortages.  And to the store's staff.  Until one step after another we're on to our local convenience store and the signs we saw on the door the day before.  One about their precautions against COVID-19.  Another about the store being closed until April 19th, with a phone number to call if you would like something delivered or prepared for pick-up.

And then we decided to do something we didn't think of the day before.  To go back to the store, get the phone number, and call.  Not to order anything (although I'm sure they would like the business, so we can probably think of something), but to find out if the owners and their family are okay.  

While they were open they did the best they could using plastic food wrap to create a hanging protective sheet between them and their customers.  And to keep the PIN pad and counter sanitized.  But we worry now that maybe they've been infected.

I'm not happy about that possibility.

But I'm grateful that instant isn't on the menu right now.  It gives us time to stop and care.