My weekend in the mountains

Birds chirping. Dogs barking. I open my eyes and see the sunbeams creeping through the curtains. Man! Is it already seven in the morning? I grab my phone to check for the time. It is 7 AM and I have nothing to do all day. No calls. No messages. No good or bad news. Why do I expect any notifications when I am staying in a small cottage house next to a mountain with barely any phone signal? Well. The world is in the middle of a pandemic; everyone is freaking out; people are dying; and I have this teeny tiny wish that one day I wake up, grab my phone, and read a miraculous alert that says the virus does not exist anymore. Not today. This is not happening today, Florentina. Maybe tomorrow. I get up from my bed, get dressed and make a coffee for myself. I step out of the house and the cold breeze hits my face. It raises goosebumps on my skin, making me feel so alive and thankful to witness the beautiful nature surrounding me. I sip my coffee while staring at the shoes on the ground. Wait. There is a shoe missing and it is MY SHOE. Who took it? It must have been those pesky dogs that my neighbor owns. What a marvelous way to start my day. It’s the only pair I have with me. I clench my hand. This means I am stuck in the cottage house for 2 days, doing nothing but eating and sitting in that uncomfortable sofa. I can feel my cheeks getting hot. No morning hikes and walks by the river that draw my attention away from the virus. No, no, no. This cannot happen. I have been sitting around all week back home in the city. I must find this shoe NOW. I put on a pair of slippers and start to look around in the garden. Nothing. I look behind the fence where the dogs usually walk around. Still nothing. I must walk down the muddy street and sacrifice my adorable slippers. I walk in the muddy