Lockdown in Czechia - Day Eight - Monday March 23rd 2020

Report by Trentin Quarantino

I wake up at 12.30pm feeling pretty shitty and depressed. I guess realising that I have nobody other than Harley who really cares about me and the fact I have feelings is still pissing with my mind. As mentioned yesterday, I know there are plenty of people out there who do care about me. But the five hour conversations about my mental health are something none of those people are really able to offer.

I hold myself somewhat responsible for this - after all, I'm the big, strong, drunken joker. Why would I need people to show they care? But the truth is I do, and people that I would have thought might reach out just don't. If asked a couple of years ago I'd have given the names of at least twenty people I considered close friends, but pretty much every single one of those people no longer even talks to me these days.

And it fucking sucks.

Harley and I have a long chat about this - apparently today it's her turn to be the strong one in the relationship. It doesn't help a great deal, but it helps a little at least. It's good to know that at least there's one person who cares about me - obviously more would be better, but I think I need to concentrate on quality over quantity for the time being.

And then my therapist cancels this week's appointment. I know it's due to quarantine and social distancing and blah, blah, blah, but the timing sucks. Just at the moment I'm going through shit my therapist walks away for the duration. When a person whose job it is to listen to your problems suddenly isn't available to do so, I have to say it does wonders for a person's self esteem!

To try and make me feel better, and at least in part because I'm starting to look more like a gorilla than a human, Harley orders me into the bathroom and proceeds to shave my beard off. Now, I have to be honest - this is something I can do much faster myself than when she does it, but I don't care about that right now. What matters is that she sees I need some TLC and offers it, and by fuck it feels good to be pampered a little.

And the thing about me not having a beard is that it makes me look much, much younger - almost as young as Harley probably. Which automatically makes me feel a little better about things. Then I have a bite to eat, and then it's time to go to work. Which makes me feel like shit again, but at least it's a company sponsored shitty feeling rather than one made up by my brain.

It takes me about 40 minutes to get to work - 40 minutes on practically empty public transport during rush hour, which is so fucking bizarre - as I have to go to a colleague's place to work from there rather than our quarantined office. When I get there my colleague puts me in one room, he goes in the other - must practice social distancing at all times, and I settle down to start work.

Except it takes an hour to login to everything, which is what happens when you work for a last-rate IT company. Fortunately it's a pretty quiet night so I don't have to deal with much, apart from when Harley sends me a song she recorded for me earlier tonight - this almost makes me cry, but then I remember I'm British and we don't do that.

The rest of the night passes peacefully enough, and I'm glad to be finally heading home at 6.30am, with the plan when I get home being to eat, and then to sleep. I have Tuesday off work - my shift pattern is really odd - so look forwards to a nice evening at home with Harley. Once I've slept...

Additional reporting by Harley Quarantinova

I started the new week by calling my very grounded mom and learning that even the eastern part of the country is still disinterested in panicking and is overall acting responsible. Although, supposedly, people are taking the facemasks off when working in gardens and believe the usual ten metre social distancing between them is enough to keep their chances of staying healthy sufficiently high.

Trentin is going out tonight for his first somebody-else's-home office so I feel the need to contribute at least by adjusting his mask in a way that will make his ears hurt a bit less when wearing it, and helping him shave the shrubbery off his face. He looks 20 years younger once again, I swear that man is full of surprises.

He still looks very depressed, and even before he walks out of the door I know what my main quest for today is going to be. I need to make a recording of a song that's playing inside my head every time I look at him since yesterday's night.

Before I manage to learn to play it, Sue and her currently self-homeschooling sister invite me over for a videocoffee. It's nice to have visits at other people's houses without having to lift my own butt!

By the time we're done talking it's getting dark, and if I don't want to annoy my neighbours after the quiet night hours start I'd better get on with practising the song!

It's bloody hard to remember all the repeating parts and their order, my breathing technique isn't the best either (my smoking habit definitely doesn't help that) but after some dozen or so attempts I manage to finish one recording I'm content with. If I try hard enough I can suppress the picture of a suffocating swan in my head when listening to my own recorded voice so I eventually send it to my beloved partner (as well as few friends I trust would be honest with me if I sucked), and get a very happy reaction from him.

After hanging the washing and moving a few things around the apartment to make it look a bit more tidy I decide to just chill out.

Then I get another videocall. My lovely friend is worried. Spent most of the afternoon reading the Book of Revelation for the very first time, washed it down with assorted prophecies found online, and is now scared all Prague's citizens are going to die a very slow and painful death this year. We talk about it for a while and I realise that even if that was true I just don't have enough fucks to give. Not sure whether it doesn't make me the crazier one between the two of us.

It's quite hard to assess your own sanity these days. I saw one Czech meme recently in which psychiatrists assure people that talking to animals, plants and furniture is not a reason to seek their help, and advise to give them a call only if said entities start talking back. I don't know. I haven't said anything to the freezer today and it keeps making a nervous chicken sounds. I'm not telling this my new psychiatrist on Thursday though!

The rest of my evening involves very nice and not at all triggering online chatting which makes me stay up a bit longer than I expected. I guess dinner and few hours of uninterrupted sleep are in order.