The Doldrums - Sort of
Tuesday, November 10, 2020
The rain has returned, making any outside activity today feel less necessary - even doing a quick run to the bakery to buy our daily baguette. Instead, I write, I knit, I snack. I vacuum, I do the wash, I blog, I snack some more. I’ve been rewriting a novel I started in 2017 when I was in LA, taking care of Fabienne who was bedridden for almost 7 months at the time. Now, as then, I certainly have the time. It’s more about taking myself seriously. I’m 75, and I self-published a children’s book in September. So anything is possible. But ... getting an agent and a publisher to do the work I really can’t do on my own is a real long shot.
For the first time since last March, when I used the time at home to do the illustrations for my children’s book, I just want these Covid restrictions to be over. Like everyone, I long to see my friends - on both sides of the Atlantic. I seriously doubt our son and his family will come from Gabon to Paris for Xmas if we can’t move around more freely. For the moment, since André and I have no pressing legal reason to take the train into Paris, our physical world has become pretty small. This being said, as retirees we continue to collect our pensions. We haven’t lost our source of income as have millions of people all over the world. We remain healthy and are taking all precautions so that continues. Local hospitals are full, and there is a huge debate here as to how to handle emergencies other than Covid. We are aware and concerned that if we need ICU care, we might be denied because of our ages.
We have a wider selection of movies and TV shows on Netflix than in the US. I can hook up to all my Zoom get-togethers if I’m able to stay awake for those that take place in the afternoon EST.
So we have it so much better than most people here, who are forced to live with other family members, and often work remotely, in 500sf apartments - and even smaller than that. And yet... I can feel that an overall weariness is starting to cast a long shadow over the national psyche, including us. We will get through this - creatively, and with hope for a better outcome in the not-too-distant future - here in France, back home, and worldwide - but it can’t happen without sacrifice. Here we have no choice, and that’s certainly better than going about a semi-normal life and watching the numbers climb to 200,000 a day as in the US. Please stay home and stay safe as best you can.
Foggy morning that reflect my mood.