So I finally ventured downstairs to do laundry.
I was sort of worried there would be lots of people doing lots of laundry. But no. Just one other machine was occupied.*
I washed my four loads of laundry, trying not to let the laundry basket touch the floor. I know, it’s stupid. I probably can’t catch covid-19 from the floor. Still it felt important to not let the basket touch the floor, to not let a single sock drop, for fear I’d bring the plague back to my apartment, to il Bambino.
I pushed the elevator buttons with my elbow and washed my hands thoroughly. Little rituals to feel safe. Who even knows if they work?
*I know, if you are reading this from Europe, you are probably sucking in your teeth with shock at the concept of shared laundry. So unsanitary! So gross! How could anyone be expected to share the machine à laver le linge?! But this is life in these United States.