Saturday, April 11 marks 23 days into quarantine. The beaches on Coronado Island are all closed, but our campground has a small private beach that people keep using. This beach wraps around a bunch of military housing villas, which are usually quiet and rarely visited.
Now, however, we’re seeing more families out walking their dogs and playing ball. It’s not like you can swim there—the water is ice cold and the bay of San Diego isn’t exactly clean.
The dogs are having a blast, and honestly, so am I. The weather has finally turned sunny after a week of rain and gloomy skies, and my husband is home, which is really nice.
My husband has been really stressed at work, and during weekdays he usually needs to blow off some steam. So, we were happy to have a day off together.
Unfortunately, it’s too late for him to take leave next week, but he might be able to the week after for his own peace of mind.
Not that we’d go anywhere though. We can’t leave the campground because if we did, we wouldn’t be allowed back in. For a month now, only current campers are allowed—no new people can come in, and if you leave, you can’t return.
We could consider spending a night in the desert and sleeping in the truck, but I don’t want to risk going somewhere new and having people be unfriendly to outsiders.
We did a lot of cleaning today; the house was a mess. The bad weather had sapped our energy, and I didn’t feel like tidying up or doing much cleaning. Even walking the dogs felt like a chore at times.
It’s incredible how a slight change in weather can make you forget a rough week.
And maybe once this virus situation is over, it’ll be the same. We’ll have a big party and forget it all. Do you think we will?