The same not the same

T'was rainy and raw this morning.

Usually Rick takes Sherlock on his first walk. Because I wanted to be in the grocery as it opened, I opted to allowed him to snuggle in bed...no need both of us to be up early...my pleasure to do so in gratitude for all the times he does it for me.

The toilets in both our French and Swiss flats are on the opposite ends of the flats, something that in the middle of the night can be annoying, definitely a non real problem with all the world catastrophes.

As I walked through the village, it dawned on me that Sherlock, who has his favorite dumping grounds usually several blocks from the flat, has a similar situation. No backyard to pop into.

His morning's choice was the parking lot grass, several blocks away.

The dog and I were the only other humans around. The air was cheek nibbling cool and smelled fresh. Overall, a nice experience.

In the grocery store, I picked up what I needed to make corn fritters for lunch. On the way home, I saw Elisabeth unlocking her green grocers. "Not until nine," she said. No problem. Some strawberries later may be good. So nice to have everything we need in walking distance even in lockdown. However, we still need to fill out the required form each time we leave the house, including date, time and reason.

Ba ck home I crawled back into my heated bed, still dressed in tights and sweatshirt to read Paris Wife, a novel from Hadley Hemingway's point of view. Usually, we are up by 9:00 at the latest, but between reading and snoozing I next looked at the clock exactly at 11:00. I had just reached the part where the newly married Hemingways sailed for Paris to join Pound, Fitzgerald, Stein, etc. A perfect time to start the day.

I feel smug that I have walked the same areas where they lived. Last night Rick and I felt smug. We were watching Czars, the episode where Rasputin was murdered. A few years back, thanks to a Russian friend, we had stood in the room where the monk met his end.

Our world has narrowed drastically since then to about one kilometer geographically. No more standing on historic sites, perusing museums, playing golf courses, eating in restaurants. Our human contacts are limited to chats from balconies, air kisses with a street between lips.

Our days at home, however, are similar: reading, riting, and no rithmetic. In its place we contact the world through our computer. Eating well for what we prepare ourselves.

This is not a complaint, but an observation. I am healthy, my husband is healthy, our relatives are virus free. 

It is enough.