“It is like being under house arrest.”This comment seemed to be repeated by everyone who called, or whom I called, over the past few days.
As our world contracts to the confines of our living quarters (and possibly neighborhood for the daily walk,) the realization that the confinement, rather than ending sooner is becoming tighter.
This has had a sobering effect on our moods. Conversations always seem to include some cautionary advice about avoiding contact with any surface not cleaned, or anyone breathing closer than six feet. “My new perfume du jour is Clorox, “ my next-door neighbor told me as I saw her wiping off the elevator button with a rag dipped in the cleaning solution.
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