Yesterday had a sort of routine to it: during the day we all worked or studied online, we moved the coffee table and exercised. We made a semi-elaborate lunch, and then a more elaborate dinner. We kept an eye on the clock, so we could get out to the terrace to clap our hearts out during the Nightly Clap. I didn’t think to myself we got this, but I did think ok, this is do-able.
Then, after everybody else went to bed, I made the mistake of binge-reading news, even though I should’ve known better. That led to a dark-night-of-the-soul when I contemplated the idea of this lasting, say, eight weeks instead of just two. Of all our summer plans falling apart. I wondered why I was bothering to study Spanish at all, and who I thought I was, writing this blog. I thought about all the (apparent) people commenting on US news stories who still think this is just a cold.
In short, I stepped out of the present moment and started thinking about the steep hill we may all be about to climb.
Advice to self, and others, from day 5 of Lockdown — Don’t Do That!
Today’s a new day. The orange tree on our terrace is beginning to flower. It looks like the clouds that have been covering Madrid since Sunday will lift. Lonely Smoking Guy, in the apartment across from ours, has come out for his first two cigarettes. White Bathrobe Guy, in the apartment underneath his, is sitting in front of his computer. Young Man-Bun, and his Partner, two windows to the right, are probably still sleeping.
Today’s a new day, and my main project is not to read the news.