I’ve lost count of the weeks of this weird stuck time. Outside it’s lush and the air is full of birdsong, which is nice. But ‘nice outside’ is the only thing happening at all – anywhere.
If it had rained all week, then ‘nice outside’ would be a celebration. Or if the week was a jostle of commute and activity, then a peaceful spring bike ride would be a joy. It’s still a bit of a joy and part of a celebration, but not that much, you know? There’s just no texture to this little at-home life, apart, of course, from the sensation of choosing not to have an ‘I’m bored’ tantrum.
But you know this, because it’s the same for you today, and yesterday, and the one before that too.
I have no answers, only questions circling like those fit folk completing marathons in laps of shed-greenhouse-flowerbed.
- When will this be over?
- Will things be the same as they were before?
- What’s for supper?
- How are all the vulnerable people holding out?
- What’s for supper tomorrow?
- How much screen time is too much?
- Will I be able to get used to wearing a face mask?
- Should adult children be paying for their keep?
- Why do politicians keep talking when they’ve got nothing to say?
- Have I had the virus?
- What will this do to the house market?
- Why is Boy Two pouring me a G&T at 4.30pm?
- What should the people in charge have done, then, if they got it so wrong?
- Where does the time go?
- Whose turn is it to hoover?
- Is it true that only boring people are bored?
- Is the response to Colonel Tom is a tiny bit patronising?
- Is covidiots the most annoying neologism? Or is it isorage?
- How can people make so much noise when they eat?
- Did Trump really say that?
- What will this all mean for the economy?
- Have I upset many lonely people when I whinged about having a full house?
- How many mice are also living in this house?
- What kind of people believe the conspiracy theories?
- When will this be over?
- Is it time to cook again?
