Tuesday, 31 March 2020

Bubble Trouble

It's Day 5 of Coronavirus LOCK-DOWN and I must say, our lives thus far are comfortable and relaxed.

At times my own fore-sight astonishes me - I keep exclaiming to Cossack, my spouse (who, is thrilled, just thrilled, to be bubbled up with me for weeks on end without respite) that I am eternally thankful for two super-intelligent decisions I made just prior to lock-down.

1)  I got 13 books out from the Te Puke Public Library before all the libraries closed up for who knows how long? I grabbed mainly travel books which will fling me and my over-active imagination into exotic and diverse countries all over the planet while in reality we are confined to a tiny cottage located on what doesn't even register as a miniscule dot on the world map.

2)  The day before all the hair-salons and barber-shops closed, I raced in to Monika , plonked myself in her twisty-turny chair and gave her instructions to cut my hair shorter than usual. So, it will be normal length and style when we are all released from our homes and can venture forth once again into the big wide world. I will look acceptable whereas, hopefully, all the rest of you who didn't go get a last-minute mop-chop, will emerge from your bubbles looking like last year's scarecrows.

Other times though, my little human frailties jump out of hiding and, of course, jump higher in times of crisis. All the cafes have been shut down. I consider that a crisis but I am not proud of defying Jacinda's rules on Day 2 of Lock-Down and driving to our local BP station, a few minutes away. Some may consider the trip was totally unnecessary and some, like Cossack, told me outright I was acting unwisely and selfishly but he doesn't know the desperation of  a caffeine-addict.

The BP service station was closed. How dare they lock-up for weeks on end when Bernadette needs her take-out barista-made coffees? A charming Indian man was wandering outside and I recognised him as being one of the really good baristas. I beseeched him to let me in. Didn't he understand that I should be an exception? That I am an addict?

"Open up please. PLEASE MAKE ME A LATTE before I lose my mind. Pleeease".

He smiled and said, "Sorry Miss. No more coffees . No more pies. Only petrol."

Honest, my day turned flatter than a Flat White, darker than a Short-Black. I bade him a courteous and "thanks-for-nothing" and "shove-your-petrol" farewell but inside I was dying. It is to my enormous credit I didn't punch that man in the nose.

And what did Cossack say when I got home and slunk inside like a misery -guts?

"Serves you right"

And I am stuck in a bubble with that man.

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