Each for himself
It's hard times with such a virus, each for himself, all for me, and the shirt is closer than the skirt.
With my collar raised high, I travelled the last few meters to my house, my fortress. The loot is in, the door is closed. My first work is to walk straight to the shutters and then close them with pleasure. So. Safe, get that air. You don't know what hijackers are on the coast in these dark times. I put the mail aside, since no one is allowed to go out for the moment, I can easily dismiss the invitation for the weekly group meeting. There are also advertising leaflets from the supermarket, a bit comical. For the time being, there is little chance of buying any of that, with all those terrible hoarders.
I see that the delivery man delivered the neighbor's fashion magazine to me again. Well, she's out of luck, no way I'm leaving my house, I'm gonna stay home and guard the stash.
In the kitchen I open both bags to see what I've scored. First of all, of course, the two inevitable suits with toilet paper, which I put in the guest room with the other 48 suits. That must be slowly enough. If not, luckily I also have five family suits with cotton swabs, for the finer work.
