After this I will either be agoraphobic or never want to stay at home again.
When we first moved out of our city apartment and into our house, I was hesitant to let our cat have free reign while we were at work all day. Cats are naturally curious and I didn't want him getting himself locked inside a cabinet or into things in the basement. I just wanted him contained and safe until he could acclimate to his new surroundings. So when we'd go off to work, I'd lock him inside our bedroom with his food, water, and litterbox. My husband thought I was insane, and I probably would have done it much longer than I did, but our A/C broke and it was starting to get too hot in there for him with the door closed. So I was forced to let him roam free. Seriously though, don't feel badly for him. The bedroom is probably larger than the Upper East Side studio I lived in when I first adopted him, so trust me when I tell you he was fine. But I always used to joke that he was locked in "Room" because that movie had come out around the same time.
Now I am locked in Room too. Fine, not really Room. House. Same idea, just slightly larger. By the time this is over, we will all not have left House for months. Yes I've gone on walks in the neighborhood or gone out in the prison yard, I meant backyard, but other than that, nothing. Josh has gone to the supermarket for essential items a couple of times, with the gloves and mask I made him wear. But recently I've been trying to limit that as well. It's just not worth risking it when instead we can all be safe in House. Can I really trust him to execute perfect protective precautions like sanitizing even when I send him with 400 canisters of wipes? Is anyone really capable of not touching their face? Is he really even wearing the mask?
Now listen, don't get on me about the mask. I randomly found 2 N95s in our basement, not 200. They're from Home Depot for sanding drywall and probably ended up in House because my dad prepares for every possible home-tool-related outcome, not because I have a safe room to hoard supplies in case of nuclear apocalypse. Although after this, I will certainly consider that. I'm not exactly sure when my dad thought I'd be sanding drywall, but I guess there was a higher probability of that occurring than a global pandemic. Sadly it seems that wrong assumption is how we all got into this mess in the first place.
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? WTF happened this can't be reality.
So here we are in House. It's going painfully slow and yet somehow also fast. As you know, we're never leaving. I think we're on Day... well whatever does it even matter anymore? Everyday is a carbon copy of the last. Just like in a meme I saw, there are no more prefixes for the days, Mon-, Tues-, etc, every day is now simply just Day. Another Day in hell. I meant House. I can only get through if I break up Day into chunks. Here is a typical Day:
Wake. Crazy time. Lunch. Crazy time. Nap. Crazy time. Walk. Dinner. Crazy time. Bed.
If I can somehow survive the 4 crazy times, I'll be rewarded tomorrow with... yet another Day. Same as the last. Trust me, I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I also know that my reality is not nearly as bad as anyone who is/was sick, has a sick family member or who has tragically lost someone they love. Or who lives alone in House and doesn't have anyone to spend time with or to help take care of their kids. I'm also not comparing the stress of what I'm doing with anyone who is still out there doing essential, life-sustaining work on the front lines. We're all in this together, ie,... we will all be in therapy together one Day...