Chronicles of the Virus Day 9

Here we are, the first workday of the second week of confinement. Three weeks to go.

After four days together, I was glad to see my husband go to work this morning. Don't get me wrong, I love him and I don't want him to get sick. I love being with him, but I also like my time alone. 

Three years ago, when he was temporarily unemployed, we spent all day together. At first, it was a matter of getting used to the new status, then it just became routine. But back then, we had the opportunity of one of us going out on our own, or both together. Now, we can only be together at home.

I suppose, if his company shuts down, that we will get used to the new status quo. So, my husband and I would get into a routine of sorts, just like everyone else. After a few days, it would all start to flow.

I miss our daughter, too. We did a couple of video calls, but they're not the same. I can't just stare at her while she sits at the table, nor just mention something off the top of my head to her. Nor can I hug her. She'll come home eventually, though. 

I think about those families who have to be all together in one small apartment these days. How the small children will get on the parents' nerves, and how the fights between siblings must be escalating. Normally, they would only spend Sundays together, or part of them. Now, it's a twenty-four hour a day, seven days a week reality. 

The biggest problem is for those who live with an abuser. There is a special number victims can call, that has been programmed to not remain in the call list. But, how can you call that number when your abuser is with you every single minute of the day? Even if the victim were to lock herself in another room, the abuser would be sure to hear her talking through the door. Those women, and children, must be living through a hell on earth these days. 

Aside from all that, we are going to be in confinement through Holy Week. Already, processions all over the country had been cancelled, including in Sevilla, where there was talk of holding them in September (!), but that doesn't keep down some people. Neighbors on a street in Córdoba organized their own procession without going out in the street. Never say the Spaniards lack imagination. 

And after storming the toilet paper shelves as if Fort Knox had stashed some gold in the packages, one would think that every family has enough paper stockpiled to last at least a year of confinement. Well, someone has discovered a way to pass on a roll to those who ignored what was coming. In Valladolid, someone found a good use for a drone. With a roll of toilet paper tied to it, it went flying along the street to offer it to anyone who needed it. Perhaps a cup of flour next?

All older Spaniards who lived through poverty and hunger have sayings of their own. "You should have lived through the hunger I went through." "Your generation is too soft; you need a war." "When I was your age, I was lucky to have shoes." Someone tweeted that the new catchphrases in twenty years will be: "You should go through a two month quarantine." "Your generation is soft; you need a pandemia." "When I was young, a person who had a dog was lucky." 

I agree.

Life continues. 


    

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