Today I have painted my lips. It has been exciting.
"Where are you going?" Eleanor asks me. "Me? Nowhere," I
reply with a shrug. He must have thought that his mother is crazy about putting
on lipstick to avoid leaving the house or that she is even crazier about going
out on the street to skip the curfew. As she looks at me silently in the
reflection of the bathroom mirror, and I decide to add a touch of blush to my
haggard face, I notice that her little head is evaluating one option or the
other. Without adding anything else, he leaves there to go to his room.
Five minutes later, come back. She has put on one of her
best dresses, a fine maroon jacket and the Totoro nylon stockings that she had
brand new and that her father had given her. I'm about to scold him a bit,
anticipating a more than likely career in new stockings, when I decide to hold
back and instead open the drawer of combs
I spend the morning spending time at work and at times
following up on their duties, like the previous days. In a circus event, which
she loves, we do both at the same time. Since the computer screen is large, I
can put the exercises that have been sent to it in a third and, in the other
two, a PDF that I need to see and a DOC in which I need to write. We put two
chairs together at the study table and, in the end, I end up spending more time
on the reproduction of plants (I remind you that we speak to you from Madrid
and here we make extravagantly bilingual children in natural science) than to
mine.
I already knew that this was going to be the case, but today
I don't have the strength to say no to almost nothing. Attention, here comes
the sweetest moment you are going to find in all this newspaper. "Long
live the coronavirus!" Cries my daughter suddenly. I don't want the
quarantine to end ever, ever, ever. “Oh. Don't tell me I didn't warn you.
Coronavirus Journal
At two o'clock in the afternoon, I tell you that it is
enough, that the difference between tree, bush and grass has been made clear,
and that it will be better to get up to make food. I was referring to me, who
was actually almost looking for a bit of isolation in the kitchen in the face
of this continuous attack by marmites, but she has taken it as an invitation.
The fish I took out of the freezer this morning was ready and I could proceed
to flour it. Eleanor expresses her intention to help me by having put, with
Sonic's speed, her hands (sorry, handyman) squarely on the white powder plate,
leaking the hake loin soaked in egg, causing a small fungus nuclear whose wave
is expanded by his fine garnet jacket.
Argh. I said I wouldn't be mad today.
I put an apron on and say "flour, why don't you know
that verb. While we peel potatoes, the radio, as always in my kitchen, tells
things. The Telepizza and the Rodale. Eleanor raises the antenna.
Readers of this newspaper will remember that on the second
day I had to make it clear to him that quarantine did not mean holidays and
that he would eat the same variety, healthy and balanced, at noon in the school
canteen. She protested and said she wanted "dinner food." I
remembered how I told him "which head fits that" while listening to
the announcer say that the Madrid government had clarified that they would not
only be given pizza, but also wraps, hamburgers, salads, and croquettes. Eleanor
performs her dance of joy in the kitchen, celebrating some kind of moral victory.
"See, see?" He says to me, "I want that too!"
In the afternoon, Eleanor plays My craft on the Play and I
can focus on work. I stare for a while looking at the house that has been
built, which is huge, and I can't help but think that we would be great there
quarantining, with our sheep and our rabbits. There are also creepers but what
difference does it make, together we can fight them. I watch the bright blue
sunrise in the video game, the endless grass hills and a lake that opens in the
distance.
She looks at real leather jackets womens when she discovered me putting on
makeup in the morning. But this time he laughs before answering me.
Comments
Post a Comment