The Come-Back, Day 11. Odds and Ends.
I didn't go walking today. I woke up very tired and with a slight headache. I don't really know why; I slept very deeply, only skimming the waking surface a couple of times without really breaking through. But, I've been walking almost every day for the past three weeks or so. One day off won't matter.
Not that I can weigh myself. Though I think it's better that way, until I try on last summer's tightest shorts. Otherwise, I might get too depressed. I've always weighed myself on the local pharmacy's scales, but it's been turned off since this shindig began, and it probably won't be turned on until everything is back and running.
Today is the first day of obligatory mask wearing. The only exceptions are if you're prone to anxiety attacks, have respiratory illnesses that make breathing with them difficult, or are under six years of age. Runners and cyclists are also not obliged to wear one. I may not go running every morning, but my walk is not a stroll, and I don't tend to meet with people. So, unless I go to town, I'm not wearing a mask. I doubt the trees and the boars hiding in the undergrowth need protection from me. Besides, if you can guarantee a distance of at least two meters from the nearest person, you don't need to wear it.
From being a news-aholic, I am on my way to becoming a teetotaller. First, because my husband couldn't stand the constant mention of the virus on the news, so we started changing channels. Now, because of the constant, idiotic, selfish attacks of the right wing parties on the government and on common sense. It just gets me so angry, so riled up, that I have decided to read the news mostly online. I just can't stand their whining about how businesses, especially the big ones, are the cornerstone of the economy, and the government wants to give handouts to those who don't want to work. Their hypocrisy makes me nauseous.
My daughter has decided to put order in our wardrobe. I think it would be better to just empty it in its entirety into the trash bin at one go (Marie Kwondo would have a heart attack from the sheer horror of seeing the mess.). I don't know if I like it or not. She is discovering relics of the past. In fact, she's discovering so many relics, I think the trash bin will be filled before trash day. When my daughter goes on a cleaning roll, nothing can stop her.
I've been seeing on the internet the shopping cart theory. It's the theory that involves returning a shopping cart or not to its correct place. The theory goes that, if no one is obliging you to do so, you return it because it's the correct thing to do. It's like wearing a mask (until now). You did it when you went amongst people because it's the correct thing to do, even if no one obliged you to. But the shopping cart theory is only aplicable in the United States and certain supermarkets in Europe. Because shopping carts in Europe have coins that you must insert to release them. You don't return it to its place, you don't get your coin back.
Before the Lidl in nearby Boiro remodelled, its old carts were different. I would insert the coin, release it, and then pull out the coin because the mechanism was deficient. But I still took it back to its place when I was done with it, only I didn't connect the next cart's chain to it, in case someone came by who didn't have the appropriate coin with them. That is one of the biggest differences in supermarket parking lots between Europe and the United States. You barely see any shopping carts scattered about here. In the U.S., you sometimes had to battle a shopping cart or two to park in a slot, because they had been abandoned in the first open space. It seems few people do the right thing there. And here, they do it because, otherwise, they would lose a coin.
Life continues.
Not that I can weigh myself. Though I think it's better that way, until I try on last summer's tightest shorts. Otherwise, I might get too depressed. I've always weighed myself on the local pharmacy's scales, but it's been turned off since this shindig began, and it probably won't be turned on until everything is back and running.
Today is the first day of obligatory mask wearing. The only exceptions are if you're prone to anxiety attacks, have respiratory illnesses that make breathing with them difficult, or are under six years of age. Runners and cyclists are also not obliged to wear one. I may not go running every morning, but my walk is not a stroll, and I don't tend to meet with people. So, unless I go to town, I'm not wearing a mask. I doubt the trees and the boars hiding in the undergrowth need protection from me. Besides, if you can guarantee a distance of at least two meters from the nearest person, you don't need to wear it.
From being a news-aholic, I am on my way to becoming a teetotaller. First, because my husband couldn't stand the constant mention of the virus on the news, so we started changing channels. Now, because of the constant, idiotic, selfish attacks of the right wing parties on the government and on common sense. It just gets me so angry, so riled up, that I have decided to read the news mostly online. I just can't stand their whining about how businesses, especially the big ones, are the cornerstone of the economy, and the government wants to give handouts to those who don't want to work. Their hypocrisy makes me nauseous.
My daughter has decided to put order in our wardrobe. I think it would be better to just empty it in its entirety into the trash bin at one go (Marie Kwondo would have a heart attack from the sheer horror of seeing the mess.). I don't know if I like it or not. She is discovering relics of the past. In fact, she's discovering so many relics, I think the trash bin will be filled before trash day. When my daughter goes on a cleaning roll, nothing can stop her.
I've been seeing on the internet the shopping cart theory. It's the theory that involves returning a shopping cart or not to its correct place. The theory goes that, if no one is obliging you to do so, you return it because it's the correct thing to do. It's like wearing a mask (until now). You did it when you went amongst people because it's the correct thing to do, even if no one obliged you to. But the shopping cart theory is only aplicable in the United States and certain supermarkets in Europe. Because shopping carts in Europe have coins that you must insert to release them. You don't return it to its place, you don't get your coin back.
Before the Lidl in nearby Boiro remodelled, its old carts were different. I would insert the coin, release it, and then pull out the coin because the mechanism was deficient. But I still took it back to its place when I was done with it, only I didn't connect the next cart's chain to it, in case someone came by who didn't have the appropriate coin with them. That is one of the biggest differences in supermarket parking lots between Europe and the United States. You barely see any shopping carts scattered about here. In the U.S., you sometimes had to battle a shopping cart or two to park in a slot, because they had been abandoned in the first open space. It seems few people do the right thing there. And here, they do it because, otherwise, they would lose a coin.
Life continues.
I was interested to read about your shopping cart theory. Here in NL, they’ve taped over the coin slots during the crisis so people don’t have to handle coins as well as clean their carts. Now most people return their carts anyway, coin or no coin (because it’s the right thing to do), but I noticed one renegade the other day. A woman of about my age (65) just dumped her trolley beside the door of the Lidl. It would have taken no effort just to push it back into the row of trolleys, but no. I have to say I was quite cross with her. When everyone else was diligently putting theirs back and cleaning them with the disinfectant provided, I wondered what her thoughtless selfishness was symptomatic of...maybe she is selfish in other areas of her life too, or maybe it was a stab of rebellion against what’s going on. She certainly wasn’t infirm or disabled in anyway because she rode away on her bike.
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