One month of quarantine
I'm wrapping my head around the fact that it's already been one month since we decided to stay home: just half a week before the whole town followed suit.
While I've been walking up a storm around the neighborhood, I haven't been anywhere else but my home for a month. Frog has twice gone to a supermarket, but otherwise, we are all here, all the time (which is challenging. I don't usually find my small house too challenging, but maintaining some semblance of separate spaces has been difficult. We are all on top of one another.)
I have to remember to start my car tomorrow, as I haven't driven in a month. (Frog is alternating using our cars for his once a fortnight food shopping, but I doubt that is enough.) I haven't used my pocketbook for a month, which seems extremely strange to me: it's amazing how much a pocketbook is a part of a woman's life.
There is no doubt that my walking is keeping me sane. I'm striving for 4 miles a day; satisfied with 3.5 mi. I feel so grateful and lucky that this all started just before spring, so I can spend long amounts of time outside, where I enjoy the sunlight, and the forsythia; the colorful buds on trees, and the glorious baby green leaves that have begun to sprout on bushes. Early spring brings so much hope and beauty! Even when it's been chilly, or raining, I can revel in the longer days: it isn't getting dark until after 7 pm now.
I have to mail four condolence cards tomorrow. Two of my friends and two colleagues have lost close relatives to this pandemic. I ache for them. I worry for my parents, stuck in Florida. If either of them get sick, I can't get to them to help.
I heard from my friend in Sweden. She says that Swedes are not social distancing at all, and the only reason she isn't going to work is that she has had a bad cold, and people with any minor illness are told to stay home.
I need a haircut and a big glass of wine. I am wishing the best for each of you.
While I've been walking up a storm around the neighborhood, I haven't been anywhere else but my home for a month. Frog has twice gone to a supermarket, but otherwise, we are all here, all the time (which is challenging. I don't usually find my small house too challenging, but maintaining some semblance of separate spaces has been difficult. We are all on top of one another.)
I have to remember to start my car tomorrow, as I haven't driven in a month. (Frog is alternating using our cars for his once a fortnight food shopping, but I doubt that is enough.) I haven't used my pocketbook for a month, which seems extremely strange to me: it's amazing how much a pocketbook is a part of a woman's life.
There is no doubt that my walking is keeping me sane. I'm striving for 4 miles a day; satisfied with 3.5 mi. I feel so grateful and lucky that this all started just before spring, so I can spend long amounts of time outside, where I enjoy the sunlight, and the forsythia; the colorful buds on trees, and the glorious baby green leaves that have begun to sprout on bushes. Early spring brings so much hope and beauty! Even when it's been chilly, or raining, I can revel in the longer days: it isn't getting dark until after 7 pm now.
I have to mail four condolence cards tomorrow. Two of my friends and two colleagues have lost close relatives to this pandemic. I ache for them. I worry for my parents, stuck in Florida. If either of them get sick, I can't get to them to help.
I heard from my friend in Sweden. She says that Swedes are not social distancing at all, and the only reason she isn't going to work is that she has had a bad cold, and people with any minor illness are told to stay home.
I need a haircut and a big glass of wine. I am wishing the best for each of you.