Home is definitely not the place I’d rather be right now. Something about these walls around me is starting to seriously annoy me. Is it the colour, the height, the same pictures hanging lifelessly through eternity? I can’t really tell.
After two months under house arrest, life before this pandemic sounds utopian. Restaurants? Dinner parties? Clubbing nights? Beach days? Sunset cocktails with friends? Movie dates? All far gone now.
Instead, I am told I must feel happy that Coronavirus didn’t take a fun journey into my lungs and is not rushing in my blood as I write these words. Learn to enjoy the oxygen in each breath you are still able to take, gurl!
I am told that Netflix&Loneliness is much nicer (and epidemiologically safer!!) than Netflix&Chill. I mean… I can binge watch an entire season of some romantic tv-show while I pig out on ice cream to compensate for the love I am clearly not getting and for how much I envy the hot blondie who’s cuddling with Mr. Six-pack. Can you think of anything better than this? Coz I just can’t.
Ironically, I am now told the lie I told my family (and forced myself to believe in) for the 7 years I was living abroad: Facetime is pretty much the same as sharing the same room! You can’t tell the difference! It is just like talking face to face, except that part where… it is not.
I am told that walking on the beach is healthy, but why should I stop and contemplate the beauty of it, the waves swirling to the sand in a million different ways, the crabs strolling over the rocks, all busy in the immensity of their tiny lives? I should (and must!) keep walking, as stopping is now strongly unrecommended (and actually forbidden). And, by the way, put a mask on it, as you don’t need your mouth nor your nose to contemplate anything, and… you know… pathogens are everywhere.
In this setting of confinement and microbial catastrophe, my mind drifts. What if I could break the rules? What if quarantine was meant to be broken? There are so many things I wish I could do that it is even hard to establish priorities.
I guess my first rule break would be rushing to the beach (not very original for a Portuguese, I am aware, but the urge of spending an entire day lying on the sand and roasting like a fat chicken on a barbecue is imprinted in my genes). Maybe I could get away with it by hiding in the dunes. Or maybe I would get caught by the water police, shouting aggressively from their black rubber boats… who knows.
Kissing would definitely be on the top of my list. If chances of getting and spreading this damn disease are already pretty high, might as well be squeezed in a car, in the silence of the night, with someone that can sweep me off my feet. (Free medical advice on how to pleasurably spread an infection, you can thank me later.)
Stargazing and alcohol intake sound like the perfect combo for a quarantine break. I am lucky enough to live in Lisbon now, and everybody is aware of the endless picturesque spots scattered throughout its seven hills…
If only I could… I would.