It started off pretty positively. The sun was shining and I finally tackled a project ten plus years in the making. I'm really lucky to have a pretty large closet for the city (it's not a walk in or anything, but it does run the length of the entire wall in our bedroom and even has a built in bureau.) I'm a pretty organized person but the one area of that closet that has never been organized is my purse storage. I have a "purse mountain" on top of the bureau and it's pretty impossible to find anything easily that way. I've wanted to organize that area since we moved in but never did it, until yesterday. I used our leftover Ikea cubbies to build a "purse parking lot" and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out, even though it's of no use in the near future. I haven't used a purse since March 12th!
We had plans to enjoy the spring weather by going for a run but JO got caught up in a video game he was playing with his friends online. Since JO was having so much fun I didn't want to interrupt him. Looking back, I probably should have interrupted him. I figured I would push the run out a few hours so I read some more of The Watergate Girl and scrolled through Twitter. That's when I saw all of these posts about more "liberate" protests happening around our country and it just started making me sad about America. How are people this rude, this unsympathetic, this obnoxious? Look, if painting your house or getting your hair colored or going to the beach or planting flowers is more important than your neighbors lives, I really can't respect you? I think the one that got to me was the video of the nurses blocking traffic in Denver during one of these protests and people walking by them, touching them on their bare arms while people in cars waved their "land of the free" posters. At this point, JO was still having fun with his video game, so I decided to go for a walk. My motivation to go running was nonexistent but I didn't want to miss out on the sun, especially with the Seattle like forecast for next week.
I put on Fiona Apple's new album because it seemed apropos for my mood. (Side note, why all the dog barking in on of the songs?) I had no plan for where to walk, which is usually a recipe for disaster for me, but in the quarantine no plan is necessary. I decided I would explore some side streets I've never gone down before. One of them was Cleveland Street and boy did it remind me of the Cape. Who knew there were so many houses in Cambridge with cute little flower gardens and mini-front lawns?
I ended up coming out on Harvard Street, pretty close to this church in Harvard Square that also houses the Jose Mateo Ballet school. It's one of my favorite "secret spots" in the city. Along the side of the church, is this beautiful walkway lined by arching magnolia trees, and featuring a beautiful ballerina sculpture. There are benches along the way and I needed to sit with my thoughts for a minute, or ten!
While I was there I watched these two young women practice their ballet, while wearing masks and standing six feet away from each other. One of them was playing the music on her phone and you could tell they were missing their creative outlet. I almost cried right there on the bench. I miss the ballet. I was really looking forward to the last three ballets of the season, all of which were postponed or cancelled. I mean, I'm not running out to a "liberate" protest just to get my ballet back but I think I'm allowed to miss it. I miss springtime in the city. I miss patio time and that lovely feeling as summer vacation nears. I miss trip planning and being in my neighborhood.
When I came back from my walk I pretty much sulked for the rest of the night. I know I've been a big proponent of "there's no wrong way to do quarantine" but I ended up getting mad at myself for wasting an entire night sulking. Ughhh. I will say this lovely sunset was uplifting and I spent some time making a plan for how to make Monday a better day which I think will help a lot.
I'm going to leave today with this quote from Fiona Apple's new album "Evil is a relay sport, when the one who's burned turns to pass the torch."
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