I have only been doing the every other week grocery run and curbside pick ups outside of the house for the past month, but yesterday I had to make an impromptu trip to guess where? The post office… to get our special arrival of back yard chickens! If you read my last post, we are really going as off the grid as we can during the pandemic.
When I got the call that my chickens had arrived, I masked up and headed out to pick up the girls. I cannot imagine that overnight trip they had to make to get to our house. The post office employee actually called them roosters, which concerned me a little bit.
I noticed when I arrived at the post office that there was a sign that said you had to wear a mask to enter. Whew. And the maximum number of people that could be in the post office at one time was 10. Double whew. There were also yellow pieces of tape to show how far you need to stand from other patrons, as well as the postal workers.
When I entered there was only one other patron. She was trying to figure out how much it would cost to mail something in a certain size box, but she had no zip code so this conversation went on longer than I wanted. And during the conversation going nowhere, more people came into the post office. Even though the other patrons were standing on the marked pieces of tape, I could feel my anxiety increasing with each new person that entered.
Then it happened. The postal worker trying to figure out the shipping cost with no known zip code coughed. I told myself she was wearing a mask, but hearing a cough these days freaks me out. I could literally see the cough droplets in the air just like on the movie Contagion.
When it was finally my turn, Contagion postal worker asked if I was there for a passport appointment. Confused, I said I got a call that my chickens (not roosters) were ready for pick up. And who would be coming to the post office to get a passport right now (I thought this, did not ask it)? My comment prompted the lady and daughter behind me in line to say they were also here to pick up their chickens. I am guessing chickens are a pandemic “thing” like hoarding toilet paper, pasta, and bread flour.
I tried telling postal worker my mailing address but she could not hear me because of my mask, so I reluctantly handed her my driver’s license. These little interactions are so important now.
I left with my 4 new chickens, hand sanitized my hands and Clorox wiped my driver’s license and was pleasantly surprised that one of my new girls layed an egg in transit. Now that is a hearty egg layer!
I am guessing this is a part of the new normal but it felt really strange for this anxious lady.