A day in the life of a slightly deranged widow… The shame

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With Covid making the trips to the shops such an ordeal and shopping slots so difficult to get I began to trawl all the various supermarkets one night for a delivery at some point in the next month. I live in a very remote area and supermarkets do not all want to deliver to me. There are a few and I took to checking at 3 am in the hope new slots had been released. I have a very strange sleep pattern since Andy died, for many weeks I slept in little naps during the night for no longer than an hour at a time and was permanently exhausted but unable to sleep. Now it seems I can’t sleep until 4 am however I can’t then get out of bed and will still wake every few hours but desperately try to fall back to sleep in the hope of oblivion or a dream until lunch time. 

I finally found a shopping slot and booked it however it wasn’t  for 4 weeks , not a problem . Booking it I used a trick I had done before, too tired to do a proper shop I fill my basket with a few expensive items so I can check out but then a couple of days beforehand I go back into the order and do a proper shop when I have time and know what I will need. Tonight I decided to fill my basket with whiskey… 6 bottles…I don’t know why 6 probably because I would usually do 6 of wine however in my slightly sleep deprived state it seemed a good idea. I was smug…I have done this, I can either delete the order or change as needed…that’s it! I’m so clever! No need to go to the shops now and I can hibernate in Covid and self imposed solitude for a couple of months. 

And so time passed…

One night about 10 pm I was sat on my sofa laden with dogs and dressed in my nightie ( Not a sexy pretty one more like something a bag lady would throw away in disgust)  slightly squiffy from a bottle of wine and red nosed from going through photos and old messages ( My fave thing to do when I need to torture myself which is every night) the door bell rang. Now this does not happen here. No one ever need s ot ring the bell…friends and family just walk in back in the days we were allowed visitors and I’m in the middle of nowhere. Jolted out of my sad state and with the dogs going manic I stumble to the door and peer out like a very deranged Miss Havisham. Its the supermarket delivery! I’d forgotten …the email was ignored reminding me of the delivery as I ignore so much now. 

I heard the dogs in and open the door  trying to hide behind the door … the poor man had the goods in a large plastic tray a metre from the door and stood back obviously waiting for me to go collect with respect to restrictions. I stared at the offering… 6 bottles of whiskey. Now wouldn’t any sane person say im so sorry a mistake and send it back? Not me…i mumble something about a staff party  then remember , Who can have a party now? Ok…’no it’s presents ha ha ha im so silly.’

 The bloke looks mortified and I’m suddenly convinced the wafts of red wine are pouring from me and the lounge. I try to hobble to the tray and grab the bottles two at a time, he averts his eyes -i’d like to say in politeness at my bed clothes but I suspect in horror- and I repeat for the last few bottles…I grin insanely and thank him and shut the door before he can even reply.

I am probably now labelled with a black mark on my delivery details, i have whiskey stock piled and my bank balance is severely depleted. I go get Andys whiskey glass and his whiskey stones that have sat deserted in the freezer for so long and pour out a large glug…’ cheers Andy I hope you are laughing at me wherever you are!’



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