I think I intended to title a post “28 Days Later” (original, I know) but time is so stretchy that 28 days came and went and I didn’t have this tab open, so I forgot.
Then I started it again on day 30.
Now it’s day…37?
30 days. That’s a whole unlimited metro card. My brain is not moving seamlessly anymore, but thinking only in discrete units of time. One month. How many more?
We are of course lucky. We’re not sick, we’re not driving each other nuts, we still have much of our previous employment. I miss the springtime, which feels far from here. I miss smelling things (I haven’t lost my sense of smell – there just isn’t anything of note to smell in here). I miss my parents. I wish we had the Olympics to look forward to. Of course these are petty complaints.
When we have to go out – to Rite Aide, when we can’t get groceries delivered – we go out at 1 am, wearing masks and sunglasses and looking like bug people. Our one-block journey takes us directly past a police station, where there are nearly always at least a dozen officers gathered, laughing and talking, so close to one another, no masks in sight. It’s like we’re inhabiting two different planets.
