Even though we are occupying a fairly small physical area, I’m making an effort to keep my brain and eyes open.  Funny things are not impossible to find.

By now everybody knows that anyone venturing outside should be wearing a mask.  But masks have been dang hard to come by over the past week or so.  One of our two pharmacies didn’t have them (sold out); the housewares/cosmetics store was selling them, one to a customer, for 2.50 euros (steep!); and the free masks that the evening news report had said would be available at the newsstands weren’t to be had even for ready money.  I know I said they were supposed to be free, but if they don’t even exist, that’s a minor point.

Well, I finally nabbed a package of masks at the pharmacy — they said it was the last one — then this morning there was a big sign at the newsstand stating that 5 masks would be given with each purchase of La Nuova Venezia (the other newspaper).  Naturally I bought the paper, got the masks, and so we’re set for a few days, considering how little we go out.  Lino has taken to calling them “muzzles.”

But now gloves have entered the scene.  A new decree was broadcast last night, another pump of the brakes to slow this virus down: Masks AND SINGLE-USE GLOVES ARE REQUIRED of anyone going into a store, or intending to buy anything outside, as well.  This is obviously required of the sellers, too.  Furthermore, the shop or sales area must have one (1) entrance and one (1) exit, clearly marked.  And, of course, the usual one-meter distance between the limited number of people permitted to be in the store together.

So today the neighborhood was peopled by individuals with faces concealed by all sorts of coverings — crinkly green paper, fuzzy white paper, some cloth, in assorted configurations.  But not everybody wants to accept the reason for the mask,  just as not everybody (looking at my brother-in-law) has accepted the reason for the car seatbelt.  I’ve seen people pull the belt across their chest and just hold it in their hand, without attaching it.  I have never grasped what they thought they were doing, but evidently they think windshield-face is preferable to doing what someone tells them to do, even if it’s for their own good.

Case in point: Sergio P, a very good guy whom I’ve rowed with on various occasions.  This morning, as I was walking home along the fondamenta, here he came.  We stopped to exchange hellos.  My voice was muffled, but his was not because, like a number of people I’ve seen, his mask was hanging around his neck, below his chin.  (People do this with dog muzzles, too.  “Yes,” the implication is, “my dog has a muzzle.”  The law says the dog has to have a muzzle.  Your point being?)

Maybe I looked at him funny, because he said “The mask is down because I’m smoking.”  Of course that’s logical, as far as it goes — you’ve got to be able to get the cigarette to your mouth.  But logic ends there, because if the mask is there to protect your lungs from the virus, why did you move it so you can wreck your lungs with smoke?

I didn’t ask him this.

So: Gloves and masks it is.