The Come-Back, Day 12. Heading for Phase Two.
The drizzly, misty, miserable rain has reappeared during the night. I'm sure it was brought on by my having left the car windows open about three fingers, after forgetting to open them earlier in the week, when it was warmer and dryer. I closed them this morning, so now the rain shouldn't return.
Next Monday, most of Spain will pass on to Phase Two. That means that you can sit inside a restaurant or bar, though only at a table, not at the bar; that you can go to the movies, but you have to sit in a pre-asigned seat; that stores greater than 400 square meters can open, including malls, but common areas cannot be occupied (the seats at the mall will be roped off); and that very small weddings can be held.
I can't really imagine attending a wedding during this time, though I assume there will be some. Imagine wearing a mask during the ceremony and at the reception. The pictures would be unique. Though, with the food and the wine, I'm certain the masks will be put aside and forgotten, kicked somewhere under the tables, taken back to the kitchen on a platter of left over meat, soaked in gravy, strewn among the tumbled glasses of wine on the tables. Even now, in Phase One, there are plenty of people out there without masks. The local police must be tired of writing fines.
Masks are becoming much more common now. Some stores have their mannequins sport one that matches their clothes. Even one commercial has incorporated a person wearing one, though for a few, short seconds (no, I don't know which commercial; I just happened to glance up during the break and saw the image). Pretty soon, chic ones will be sold in different patterns at a price worthy of a piece of clothing. I'll stick with the cloth ones I have, and the 0.97 cent ones I can buy at the pharmacy.
Systems are being set up in the different autonomous regions to track infections. At the moment, it will be done by humans calling up numbers and tracking down people physically. I don't know if tracking phones will be allowed. I just don't want to get a phone call telling me I've been in close contact with an ill person and that I have to quarantine for two weeks. Not at all agreeable.
People are starting to lose their fear. I suppose fear can only be felt for a certain amount of time until we start to either ignore it, or live with it. The virus isn't the same as bombs. And even then, we would probably get used to the sound of bombs falling continuously. We would even find it strange if we stopped hearing them. The virus is invisible, every day there are less contagions, and we begin to think we're fine. Until the second wave hits.
Speaking of waves, there is a reason that our traffic cops would pull over this truck and not let it move until the driver empties it. It's not a good way to go buy some ice cream, either.
And, a motorcycle and a pool are not a substitute for a lake and a power boat. Ever. (Ignore the long commercial at the start.)
Life continues.
Next Monday, most of Spain will pass on to Phase Two. That means that you can sit inside a restaurant or bar, though only at a table, not at the bar; that you can go to the movies, but you have to sit in a pre-asigned seat; that stores greater than 400 square meters can open, including malls, but common areas cannot be occupied (the seats at the mall will be roped off); and that very small weddings can be held.
I can't really imagine attending a wedding during this time, though I assume there will be some. Imagine wearing a mask during the ceremony and at the reception. The pictures would be unique. Though, with the food and the wine, I'm certain the masks will be put aside and forgotten, kicked somewhere under the tables, taken back to the kitchen on a platter of left over meat, soaked in gravy, strewn among the tumbled glasses of wine on the tables. Even now, in Phase One, there are plenty of people out there without masks. The local police must be tired of writing fines.
Masks are becoming much more common now. Some stores have their mannequins sport one that matches their clothes. Even one commercial has incorporated a person wearing one, though for a few, short seconds (no, I don't know which commercial; I just happened to glance up during the break and saw the image). Pretty soon, chic ones will be sold in different patterns at a price worthy of a piece of clothing. I'll stick with the cloth ones I have, and the 0.97 cent ones I can buy at the pharmacy.
Systems are being set up in the different autonomous regions to track infections. At the moment, it will be done by humans calling up numbers and tracking down people physically. I don't know if tracking phones will be allowed. I just don't want to get a phone call telling me I've been in close contact with an ill person and that I have to quarantine for two weeks. Not at all agreeable.
People are starting to lose their fear. I suppose fear can only be felt for a certain amount of time until we start to either ignore it, or live with it. The virus isn't the same as bombs. And even then, we would probably get used to the sound of bombs falling continuously. We would even find it strange if we stopped hearing them. The virus is invisible, every day there are less contagions, and we begin to think we're fine. Until the second wave hits.
Speaking of waves, there is a reason that our traffic cops would pull over this truck and not let it move until the driver empties it. It's not a good way to go buy some ice cream, either.
And, a motorcycle and a pool are not a substitute for a lake and a power boat. Ever. (Ignore the long commercial at the start.)
Life continues.
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