A Dinner to Die For

There are just so many nights in a row you can eat turkey burgers or chicken stew or hamburgers or baked haddock or tuna salad and veggies, you know? So tonight, after hearing that this whole business will go on until June at least, we threw caution to the wind and ordered Chinese takeout, despite the inherent and unspoken danger which to even mention would be politically incorrect and dare I say racist. Anyway, we thought it would be extending an olive branch to the owners of China Rose, proving that we do not hold them directly responsible.

Once that part was over, trying not to contract the coronavirus from food prepared and handled by other people turned out to be harder than we imagined.

First my husband put on his surgical gloves and went to pick up the food. When he got home he washed his hands. Then we took the food out of the brown paper bag it was packed in and threw it away, and then both washed our hands. But laid out before us were all the containers the food came in. Some were plastic! Doesn't the virus live on plastic for two days, or is it two hours? How long? Should we put all the food outside on the porch for three hours and then eat it? But it would be like 11 pm by then. What to do? Sanitize each one? How unappetizing. What about the fortune cookies in those little plastic bags? They come from Brooklyn, in New York, the epicenter! Who touched them, we wondered, and did they have the virus?

If we do not contract Covid-19  from this one foolish evening and live to eat another meal, we will surely never do takeout again.