Being stuck in an apartment in NYC during this pandemic is more difficult than I thought it would be. It has been 60 plus days, and I have only left the apartment three times. Each time leaving the apartment felt like a life or death mission. Walking down the street with double bandanas covering my mouth and nose, I would mentally calculate the distance between me and any fellow New Yorkers who happened to be within a one block radius. A simple walk to the hardware store was now a walk through a mine field. Crossing the street to avoid coming to close to people, scolding non-mask wearers and corner loiterers under my breath. It is all so absurd. A trip to the hardware store or to pick up take-out should not entail life threatening risks.
The inability to run simple errands and the constant stress of the pandemic, takes a mental toll. Quarantine is a grind that slowly chips away at the normalcy of life. It is tortuous.
The first few weeks it was fine. Sort of surreal, but fine. But now sitting at home is just depressing. It saps your motivation. You can feel your body weakening from lack of movement and exercise. Your mind dulls. Simply things like getting groceries, become complex tasks. Cooking starts out being fun and devolves into a chore. The days bleed into one another.
I used to take umbrage at people walking around outside seemingly oblivious of the risk of COVID. But now I understand and bear them no ill will. You can’t quarantine forever. During quarantine your apartment might be a prison of your own making, but it is still a prison. It just takes awhile for you to realize it and feel the mental weight of it.