Quaran tears my arse: Dad isolates, mum shines
It's got me. Despite the vaccination, the virus feels at home in my body and after a short marathon with false negative tests and a feverish trip to Triemli, it's clear: I have corona. That means: isolation for me, quarantine for the children.
My wife is actually allowed to move around freely as a vaccinated person, but someone has to entertain the four children, because they are allowed to stay at home and get a pack of materials from school. Corona is suddenly throwing the normal family routine into disarray.
Meanwhile, I'm lying in bed with aching limbs, a fever and a headache. I'm not really feeling well.
The children are allowed to deliver the food to me, otherwise they should stay away from my camp in the guest room. Distance is the order of the day. Yes, we've thought about getting the family infected, but on the one hand I've experienced first-hand that this bug isn't entirely harmless and on the other hand we don't fancy a quarantine relay race where we pass on the virus by Christmas. Speaking of throwing up: I feel sick too. Corona also goes through the stomach.
What I have left in my little room is my laptop and guitar. I click my way through the internet and if I were prone to conspiracy esotericism, I would have enough food for thought right now.
I'm also becoming a bit more radical, I can get to grips with the idea of compulsory vaccination, I watch everything I can get from Jan Böhmermann, that North German king of intelligent entertainment, and I learn «Blackbird» by the Beatles and «Every Breath You Take» by the Police on the guitar until my fingertips hurt. I watch trash on Netflix, read a bit of The Magic Mountain and eventually end up at «King Kong Skull Island», until one of the children suddenly wakes up at night to the screams of the giant ape. What must they think of their father? A man in tracksuit bottoms and a white mask who eats his dinner in bed, watches Netflix and sometimes fails miserably when he tries to help his mum when the kids don't want to go to bed. Darth Vader croaks through the corridor and nobody can really take him seriously. I have to think of Thomas Mann again. According to his diaries, he had a similar experience. He sat in his room and didn't really have any physical contact with his children. Unlike me, he at least had some authority. Or did he?
If you're reading this and thinking: What's he blathering on about his woes with Netflix and YouTube in his little room while his wife juggles four children in a Zurich city flat? You're right, of course. The heroine of this story is my wife. No question about it. As long as her lungs are working, a vaccine breakthrough is easier to handle than four children in a city flat without a garden.
While the children actually hoped on the first day that the PCR test would turn out positive because they found the prospect of a holiday camp in the flat quite appealing, my wife doesn't really like the idea of spending ten days in the flat. Even though her job as a psychotherapist is not an easy one, she always finds the work a bit of a, well you can't say relaxation, perhaps more of a welcome change from everyday family life.
But then, there's no other way to put it: she really blossoms in this situation. After a monster order from our favourite wholesaler, we decorate the windows, make our own soaps, bake cookies and create sugary desserts.
The most important thing, however, are the «fresh air episodes» permitted by the FOPH, which she takes very seriously regardless of whether it's raining, icy or snowing. We get food from Cindys at the motorway service station, delivered to the car of course, because my wife is the only one allowed to enter a restaurant due to her vaccination status.
How did she get through this time? Quite simply: she focussed on the essentials. The focus is not on the piles of laundry, the untidy kitchen or the chaos in the children's room. The focus is on having fun in the quarantine camp!
Even in distance learning, a few worksheets can be ignored from time to time. When there's no time to cook, pizzas are quickly ordered and then Checker Tobi explains gravity for once.
This gravity is still giving me a bit of a hard time, but the lightness is slowly returning and my body is recovering. While I am looking forward to leaving the house for the first time, the children are only moderately enthusiastic when they are allowed back into school. For them, it's a bit like a wonderful week's holiday has just come to an end. Normality is sometimes a question of perspective.
I admit it. The sweet idleness now seems quite pleasant to me. A life as a «Thomas Mann offshoot» in the study room would certainly have its qualities. But understandably, my wife doesn't fancy it. I'm needed again. While she goes snowboarding with the grown-ups, I tidy up the quarantine camp and look after the little one. I'm nappy-changing, cleaning and cooking again. Because it's clear: the grace period is over.
