It’s Monday January 17th. It’s 2022. Since my previous covid confessions a lot happened. I celebrated Sinterklaas, I spent a full weekend with my parents, I celebrated Christmas, I went to Switzerland to celebrate New Year. Those were the good bits. The backdrop of these celebrations was a country where total infection rates went down, but got in lockdown nonetheless. For the first time during this pandemic my government decided to be on the safe side, with Omicron on the rise and lots of uncertainties about this variant’s destructive power.
Everything was closed again, except for essential shops. Schools closed a week earlier, leaving me and the Man slipping back in working half-time mode in a week when both of us should have worked more than full-time to finish stuff before our two week long vacation started. I was livid when my government announced this extra week off for Daughter. Supposedly to prevent viral spread to the elderly (read: grandparents) over Christmas dinner, since the last day in school was originally planned for December 24th. Guess what I heard parents discuss mostly the last few days before school closure: how many days the grandparents would come and watch the kids while they had to work.
At that point in time we didn’t know yet whether we would be going to visit our friends in Switzerland. What I was looking ahead was three weeks of rainy and cold winter days without any variation one could otherwise rely on. No surprise visit to the cinema, no cosy lunch at Bagels and Beans, no visit to a kid friendly museum. I felt very sad and stressed during the week before Christmas. Luckily we could make that trip to Switzerland. Two days in a car for three days there. It was worth it. It saved my vacation.
Now it’s mid January already. Daughter’s school reopened according to plan. This Sunday we received our first ‘kid in Daughter’s class has covid’-message. That took longer than I anticipated. My bet was to receive such a message Thursday at the latest. Three of such messages and the class needs to go in isolation. I count each day we can bring Daughter to school as a blessing.
Shops reopened last Saturday. I refused to order things online these past weeks, except for the things I would normally buy online. There’s no need to overstretch delivery people by buying stuff that I don’t need immediately. I didn’t go shopping though. Not buying stuff is always the better option.
Hairdressers also resume their business. The Man seriously needs a haircut, but most hairdressers are solidly booked already for the next two weeks.
Such is Covid Life. Stumbling through boring life with a bad haircut, every now and then able to escape to pre-Covid lifestyle. It could be worse. But I long for a lot better.