The more paranoid my wife gets, the more G*D hoops I have to jump through to get my groceries into the fridge.
First few visits werent bad, but at this point it is almost an OCD-type ritual that I am to perform at every stage from entering my car at home in the garage to getting back home; disinfecting the load and putting the groceries away.
The process at this point involves layers of gloves, a mask (new this week!), hand sanitizer, a disinfecting wipe to wipe down the cart handle (to the chagrin of the people at Costco who already are highly advertising the fact that they already do the same); and a mantra that she told me to repeat stating that I shall "never touch my mouth, nose, eyes, or face" Getting the load to the fridge, usually involves quite a few "let me do that"s, a few "I will handle those", and at least 1 or two "JUST STOP"s.
Most of the putting away of the groceries in the interior of our household occurs with myself in just my boxer briefs, as she demanded that I immediately throw all of my "contaminated" outer layers immediately into the washing machine that she washes HOT on MAX TIME. Like i Just got back from the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone and somehow a tide pod on my laundry is an iodine pill.
We wipe down our "harvest", a product at a time, disinfecting the whole way, before finally wiping down our kitchen and every surface that they have so far touched. We then head out to our designated doorknobs, to blast with force with 409, then set a timer for 5 minutes until they are sufficiently disinfected before wiping down aid doorknobs with our freshly-disinfected and now completely contaminated textiles, which we also toss into the hot soak with my previously contaminated clothing.
I do this not so much for my health, but for my sanity. It makes her feel safe. And right now that's what matters.