Today at HEB this moron addressed me saying… Excuse me, sir. Oh, come on! Really? I lit up like a match. I gave him a deadly look. My offender didn´t even bother to look at me again. Then, reflected in one of the dark windows where the offices are, I indeed saw a subject with it’s face all covered, wearing loose sweats and old flip flops that was in fact, completely genderless. Damn my haircut three months ago! When I was walking back to my car, I stared to huff and puff, and I said to myself, like I do several times a day…Okay, now I got it. This time it´s true. I have Covid! I feel dizzy, I feel shortness of breath… then, of course, when I take off my face mask, immediately I come back to life. I mean, how are we not going to feel infected if we cannot even breathe properly in these masks? And I don´t mean to burst your bubble, but if you CAN breathe properly, your mask my friend, is a shitty one and you will NOT be very protected.
As you can see, my mood is not very “bubbly” this week. Now, the message that we are receiving daily is that we are mourning, and that we need to pass through the stages of grief. Okay so, what do you call the stage where you cuss every minute and you bark at any member of your household that dares to address you? Because, that is the stage where I am.
And it is precisely now, in this bitter, sour stage that my daughter Isabel, wanted to watch Snow White, the original film that I had not seen since decades ago. So, with all the good intention of keeping up with the…enjoy spending time with your kids, enjoy the simple joys of life…bla, bla, bla…whatever. I sat down with her and watched the movie. At one point, my poor daughter paused the movie and begged me. Mom, please stop talking, I can´t listen to the movie. That was because I could not stop interrupting Snow White every three minutes. Whistle while you work? Seriously? Who the hell whistles while they work?… Oh! well YEAH! If I had a damn zoo of little forest animals helping me out with the laundry and the dishes I would be singing too. And tell me I´m not the only person that finds the relationship between a fifteen-year old girl and seven old dwarfs a little bizarre. And above all, is the magic mirror on the wall blind? How can he find Snow White all chubby and with those tiny eyebrows and the ridiculous little bow on her hair prettier than the wicked stepmother? I mean come on! The stepmother is hot, with her curved body, her huge green cat eyes and bee stung lips… Also, I´m sorry to say this but the stepmother is much, much smarter than Snow White, I mean just listen to that high pitched annoying voice for God´s sake! And on top of all, she has the guts to laugh at the poor Dopey…for God´s sake!
Then, later on that day, Isabel wanted to watch Beauty and the Beast. Belle, much smarter than Snow White, thank you, Lord. But, all that weirdness with the furniture talking… Let´s pause here for a moment… is it possible that the poor woman, locked in that castle for so many days, without being able to go out ended up delusional and talking to the furniture? I mean, not that it happens to me… I mean not exactly like that…but okay, yes… sometimes I do have these moments where I do direct my thoughts to the sink. ¡No, no, no…this cannot be possible!, ¿why do you have a pile of plates and silver wear again? Dude, I just emptied you like an hour ago! And to the broom… Look what you did to me. I have a blister on my finger, which is now a callus because I am now a pro at sweeping… I swear I am this close to replacing you with the electric gadget Roomba or whatever its face is…I swear…I am this close….
I mean, writers don’t get ideas just because. They have to endure these weird what the hell? life scenarios to come up with good things. Yes. I am so DONE with this lockdown…or am I? I’m honestly telling you that I don’t know if I’m at the verge of the coo-coo’s nest or what’s going on with me. This last Friday San Antonio reopened, almost all businesses reopened. They say that… with the according measures and whatever. However, when finally the moment that we all dreamed of came, today, the only thing that I want is to stay locked up, not only not to get infected but…who am I kidding? I am honestly getting the hang of being at home all day. I know, it’s like Stockholm Syndrome, right? Now that I see the day where everything will go back to normal closer and closer, I feel a knot in my stomach. Soon, I will have to wake up to a dark sky again and run, run, run and drive my kids to school, to their hundreds of activitie…. I honestly prefer to stay home talking to the washing machine. The stores are open now, you can go in with a face mask and maybe gloves. Oh! How appealing! What the hell am I going to buy when of course, nothing will fit me now? What? I’ll be in a dressing room trying to stuff myself in my former size pants, with a face mask? When just this morning a man called me a dude! No, not a chance! I will be a good citizen, my friends, I will stay home for now. Maybe I’ll stay home for a long, long time now. Maybe I’ll become one of those crazy old ladies that never go out and threaten visitors with their canes. Now I can understand their wisdom.
Today is my 18th anniversary. The kids are preparing a surprise dinner party for us. Of course, I bought all the ingredients today… before the guy called me sir… will I ever get over it? Anyway, of course I will act surprised despite me buying the ingredients. Now, while I type, I hear the song A Whole New World from Aladdin. Isabel is still watching her nonstop princess marathon. I swear that not even if a gorgeous middle-east hunk came flying to my balcony and invited me a ride on his magic carpet, I would want to leave this house. Just to imagine going up and down I feel sick to my stomach. I have never been a roller-coaster fan. Well, that’s that. I hope next week I’m in a healthier grief stage, and that my writing is a little less sour. Clearly, at this moment, I don’t have much wisdom to contribute to the planet. End of Statement.
Regina Moya, day 57th of lockdown.