Monday ~ March 16, 2020
Woke up just before my husband’s alarm after what felt like an eternity of REM cycle-filled Holocaust nightmares. They must have spanned several REM cycles because early on there were people in 1700s attire on horses and attempting to escape into the forest, and then it shifted (all in the same general geographic area) to the modern day, where we were trying to hide Anne Frank in a car. Then there was an entire group of girls on a some kind of school or youth group trip who suggested we hide Anne in their bags of groceries. This seemed like the plan with the most potential for success, and then I woke up. Usually, after dreams like that I don’t even try to go back to sleep because there is no way I want to go back down the Holocaust REM cycle rabbit hole.
Drank two cups of coffee, ate some oatmeal, and went to the post office to mail something. The only difference in that experience was that I brought a pen from home and I had hand wipes ready to clean my hands and anything on my person I touched with “tainted” fingers.
Atticus the husky behaved the same as he always does, pulling me down the road and wrapping his leash around me several times until I risk a cartoon-like fall on my face. I experienced my normal frustration (one time I accidentally hit my phone whilst swearing, and Siri responded, saying “That’s not nice”) and then realize I have no foundation for irritation because I was the one who decided to adopt a dog that was literally bred to pull.
I tried to focus on the positive elements of life, taking photos of Boitsfort beauty to share with you all.
Took a “chill pill” and made it to 1pm before going for a glass of red wine to get the rest of the edge off.
Vacuumed…again. This is a daily event right now because my husky is blowing his coat. You can literally pull clumps of white fur right off of him. He loves it (not). I also find cleaning a great way to unwind and see actual results. I just have to stay on top of my OC without the D tendencies. At times of heightened stress, they can go haywire. I thought it was funny to see a post from a friend in Rome who went into lockdown far earlier than we have up here in Brussels. He thought it was strange to think of people who worry about germs.
Welcome to my world, friend.
It’s not that I am afraid of germs, I just like to be clean. Ok, in my head that made total sense. In written form, less so.
My husband asked if he could have some hand wipes, and I handed him my little Ziploc full. I have been wiping things down since we moved here and started going on public transit. I remember people used to always poke fun at me for bring a traveling pharmacy with me on school trips and study abroad programs. Then when they needed something, guess who they came to? Who’s laughing now, eh?
But with all the gravity a pandemic warrants, I have upped my OC without the D (that was what the therapist I saw in my mid-20s referred to it as) only a smidge. Obsessive Compulsive without the Disorder element that causes a serious hindrance to your ability to function in daily life. But that is a topic for another time.
My husband went to the grocery store and reported back that all of the staff were wearing masks. There were sections of the store that were looking sparse. He also heard from colleagues that it was possible more drastic lockdown measures were going to be put into effect. A curfew, for example.
We decided our window for trying to return early to the United States had likely already closed, and we had no desire to add our own menagerie to the madness.