What a feeling. That soft, thin red line that shows up where it shouldn't on the antigen test. It was my turn, I think to myself. Two years avoiding her and with three vaccines in her body. That nasty cough, a kind of jerk that keeps me half-stunned for two days and then… pause. Days of reflection, of being at home without alarm clocks or alarms, of looking at infinity, of sunbathing, for vitamin D, of watching a movie, of reading books that I had pending. Rest, disconnect, recover. And also jot down things in a squared ring notebook with a black marker, essential on any trip or in an unsought running of the bulls like this one. Old and healthy habits that I maintain, not everything in life is a mobile phone or a tablet, fortunately. And, watch out, turn on the TV at 12 at night to see El chiringuito and see how the newsroom has grown, how good they are. And the same when watching Jugones a las tres, what a great program… One feels somewhat strange watching them from the sofa at home, but taking a little distance is always good. It helps to know where and with whom you are.

Someone said the other day that we spend our lives worrying about eighty percent of things that will never happen. I don't know if it's true or not, but I like it and it makes me think. The mind is always alert, it is one step ahead of what we would like sometimes: it imagines, it provokes concerns, hopes and fears. The hackneyed "what if..." is always present in our heads. It is a kind of defense mechanism that, without control, can cause anxiety and cause imbalances on a day-to-day basis. Life must be lived, not suffered, I think while I have a coffee in the middle of the afternoon in this spring that anticipates summer. And with enthusiasm I pick up that platelet every day that I look at with respect hoping that second red line will disappear and tell me that the virus has gone and I can resume my routine. The blessed routine that we despise so many times and only appreciate when we don't have it. At the moment it resists, it is still there, firm. Okay, I grab my ring binder and start smudging a few pages with what I'm going to do when this is all over. Then I relax, look at infinity and think: patience.