Alcohol doesn’t help, but…
Alcohol doesn’t help. But tonight I tried. Two martinis - gin not vodka -so dirty they spanked me. I needed an escape. 11 client phone calls. We have so few business at the moment and yet my phone won’t stop ringing. What should I do? What should I do? Emotions traveling through air and sitting cross legged on my desk. I’m an empath and by the cocktail hour my office was as crowded as a doctors waiting room. My hand reached for the shaker. A sanitizer in a silver sleeve. And one by one my patients left leaving Fear behind. She was a fat girl with dirty hair and no matter how I tried I couldn’t coax her from the chair. Tying on my apron I began cleaning like an Italian grandmother dipping my mop in the big brown bucket pulling furniture from the wall cleaning each and every corner and reciting The Lords Prayer. Friday night in the life and times of the Coronavirus. And gradually on swollen ankles with one hand pressed to the small of her back she rose giving me the bird. I’ll be back she said with satisfaction. And finally I exhaled. My phone beeped- it was my neighbor Peggy - The German not Guggenheim. She texted to tell me the latest news. The Italian government announced tonIght new rules for Venetians. You’re no longer allowed to go more than 200 meters from your front door. My world is getting smaller. Last month I took a flight around the world from Paris to Miami Dallas Las Vegas Singapore Phnom Penh Siem Reap Bangkok before home to Venice. Now I can’t go more that 0.12 miles from my house. I dumped the dirty mop water pouring Despair down the drain. She had returned to take a bath. I then took off my clothes and stepped in to the shower following her. I crawled under the covers cold and wet and naked ready to sleep so in the morning dawn would bring new hope new energy - a new day.