We are into our fourth week of social distancing in Slovenia, working and schooling from home. Slovenian culture is a mix of Mediterranean and north European, but I was still surprised how quickly we spread out at least 1.5 metres apart. Grocery stores are the only shops open and between 8am and 10am they serve only pensioners. I live just across the road from a store and, as I was airing my flat this morning, I overheard a woman trying to get past the security guard: “But I am old, I just look younger.”

There are two notebooks side by side on my desk: one is for the office; the other is for my literary writing. My travelling distance from work to home has shrunk to about 40cm. I keep my jacket by the “office” chair for video conferences. Going to the bathroom feels like an expedition. I try to keep to my daily fitness routine. I noticed the sweating helps reduce anxiety.

I have already cleaned every cupboard and drawer. I found a bottle of oil with a 2017 expiry date and sugar with 2018. No chocolates, though. I try to delay essential shopping as much as I can, but in the end it is always running out of chocolate that gets me to open the door.

I try to delay essential shopping, but in the end it is always running out of chocolate that gets me to open the door

The most surreal scene awaited me on one of my walks. I was at a zebra crossing when two older women approached, one from the left, the other from the right. We all stopped and looked at each other, figuring out who should go first and arranging our paths; it looked like a clumsy dance.

Near to where we were choreographing our steps, a large group of men were sitting side by side – without masks and smoking, like a remnant from the world as it used to be. They were builders on their break. Industry in Slovenia has not stopped and we now have two worlds existing side by side: one in which people wear gloves, masks and work at safe distances, self-isolating in offices at home; and another that is untouched by safety measures, the world of low-paid workers, mostly immigrants.

Miha Mazzini. Photograph: Gary Doak/Alamy

I used to occasionally hear cars with their engines running under my window. When I investigated what was going on, I would see something odd: people were no longer using the car park;they were driving right up to the shop entrance instead. The driver, masked, would sit in the car with the motor running, while the passenger ran into the store and waited in line, before running back out with their shopping bag, jumping into the car and zooming away.

After watching this strange new ritual a few times, I realised what was happening: in a new situation, our brain checks its memory for any old scripts that could come in handy. Clearly in a scenario where people need to wear masks and rush into a closed space full of danger to get something valuable, the reference point is a bank robbery scene from an American film. There were many getaway drivers in the first week, now they’re almost gone. The new and extreme situation has turned into normality.

• Miha Mazzini is a Slovenian novelist and screenwriter.