3 April

This morning I started my little Fiat for the first time since 19 March and went shopping for necessities.  I went armed with a mask, several pairs of disposable gloves, hand sanitizer, and Clorox wipes, carrying the requisite self-declaration of my purpose in leaving home.  During the 15-minute drive I counted two men on foot at different points along the roads, but no carabinieri and only two other vehicles until I reached the mall near the autostrada. 

Ipercoop is a vast hypermarket with wide aisles and soaring ceilings, not quite on the scale of IKEA but more like an American supermarket than any other in Mondovi`.  At 9:15 there were few other shoppers as I wheeled a cart through aisles of groceries.  I saw only individual shoppers, no couples; no empty shelves, few shortages (certain types of pasta, canned tomatoes), and no displays of temper or anxiety or even impatience.  Some non-food items were cordoned off—only shopping for necessities is allowed—but for some reason the small electronics were not off limits and I bought an electric tagliacapelli (hair cutter, literally) to barber my husband’s shaggy head.  Breathing behind the mask made my face sweat and the gloves were a bit large; I grew increasingly warm under the hat and coat I wore, but the few shoppers without mask and gloves looked shockingly vulnerable to me.  I managed to fight off most impulses to buy anything not on my list, except for two packages of batteries, AA and AAA, and some sheets of fresh lasagne.  In retrospect I wish I’d not resisted the temptation of a packet of corn tortillas.  I stood in line at the checkout, well behind the man ahead of me, not moving to the counter until the cashier signaled me.  The total was twice our normal weekly grocery budget, but I won’t shop again for some weeks except to buy fresh produce online from the farmers’ market.