Today was my first venture out in a week. Literally I have been holed up in my apartment, and I haven’t set foot outside until today.
This was a self-imposed quarantine for my cold. I had this fear that any temperature below the precisely-engineered temperature of my beloved apartment might mean certain death. I’m being dramatic, but that happens when one is ill. Having a cold always reinforces my delusion that I am a delicate flower.
I live in a land where the average citizen is not immediately regarded as a hypochondriac when he wears a surgical-like face mask in public, but either cautious or considerate. Perhaps because this is also a land where strangers are generally smushed close together in public places. It’s logical that one would stay home instead of powering through work, errands and the like in order to keep the swine flu, SARS, bubonic plague, etc. from spreading. I always felt like this would be a good policy to adopt in the States, but it always feels like no one can spare the time off. Seriously, we as a country need to take work less seriously. I would also like to advocate the establishment of an everyday afternoon siesta as well.
The sad part of this quarantine period is that I actually had things to do. I was going to meet a friend, volunteer again, go to a meeting. But I hit a roadblock this week with all the coughing and the sniffling, so I feel slightly sorry for myself. I even missed a day of beautiful weather, a temperature above 60. It was like a miracle to Jing, I feel like a child in a Ray Bradbury story sometimes in my winter. The good news about quarantine is that I did get far on Super Mario Brothers, watched super long movies, and read a book. Not to worry, I’ll pick back up. I’m almost there now. Quarantine over, groceries bought, mass tomorrow. Next week, Tokyo. Sans mask.