No rush to get out of bed. We ain't going nowhere. |
After I posted my blogyesterday (Saturday), I listened to the Spain's president announce that the country was
going into lockdown for 14 days.
What does this mean?
No one can leave their
home unless for the following reasons:
1. Acquisition of food
and medicine
2. Access to
healthcare centres
3. Travelling to work
(the few that still have jobs, these are economically disastrous times)
4. Return journey to
residence
5. Walking a pet
Among my whatsapp
groups there was confusion over when the lockdown was starting. Tonight? Monday?
If you could walk a
dog, did that mean you could also walk a toddler? And if not,
where would I be able to buy a dog from if we were only allowed to buy food and
medicine?
- Dad, I'm hot... - Shut up, we're going out to the street! |
My calm husband fell asleep
straight away that night. Meanwhile my mind was overwhelmed by a million
different scenarios. Imagine facing lockdown with a partner you were about to
leave? Imagine lockdown in a tiny flat with four kids?
In the morning I
learnt that walks in the mountain or beach were not allowed. The dream of
having a dog faded too as my brother in Alicante announced the police had
stopped him and his wife as they were working their pup. 1. They were only to
take out the dog for efficient walks to do its necessities 2. They were not
supposed to be out together
That's the thing.
Trips to the shops or to walk your dog must be done alone. One family member at
a time.
Remember that chicken
we ordered in my first entry? Well, we bought it because we had friends coming
over. The same friends we had agreed to become 'exclusive' with during these
contagious times. They were coming over because they'd had a leak in the
kitchen and a builder had taken up the floor. The idea was they would eat with
us while the builder fixed it.
I confess, our friends
came over to have a meal despite the lock down. We didn't embrace. We washed our
hands. It was like a last supper. Our toddlers laughed and played and had the
best time ever. We chatted and chatted and chatted, knowing we wouldn't meet
for a while.
From tomorrow there
will be fines for anyone caught not following the rules. I guess it's the only
way to keep everyone in order. In the end it's for the greater good and I'm
pleased action is being taken. In fact, I'm trying not to worry about the lack
of measures in place in UK where my parents are. They assure me they are staying
inside.
Gallows humour is in
full swing and there are a lot of funny memes going around, mostly involving
toilet paper. Today one was a questionnaire:
How will you be at the
end of this quarantine?
A) 10kg overweight
B) Pregnant
C) Alcoholic
D) Divorced
E) All answers are
correct
Hahaha... oh sh*t.
This morning my
husband got annoyed with me for not returning the washing up sponge to its home
in the sponge holder. Not once, but three times he told me off. I suddenly felt
so furious that he was annoyed about such a stupid thing. I wanted to tear the
sponge up and jump up and down on the sponge holder.
At the same time I also
thought: What's wrong with you, Emily? Why don't you just return the bloody sponge to
the holder?
I reasoned that I
didn't put it away because the washing up was never ending. The real reason though
is because I'm thinking and not paying attention to what I'm doing. There are so
many thoughts going through my mind all the time because of this incredible new
reality. I AM NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE MY FLAT.
This sponge is going
to provide a wonderful exercise in doing things more consciously.
There is nowhere to
go. Every detail of the day is to be lived fully.
If I can stay mindful,
every book I read to my toddler will feel like the first time I've read it. Every
game as fun as it was that first time we invented it.
I will taste
every meal.
I will stand outside on my 8 metre square terrace and be grateful we have some outdoor space and we have trees in the
distance and one day, when life has returned to normal, we will value it all
even more.
You can also find me on my Facebook Emily Benet Author Page.
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