Pandemic Log: 3-24-2020
Status: Alive (yay!) but super tired (why?)
Mood: Everything is normal. (WTH? No it's not.)
Snacks: Chocolate cake isn't a snack if you eat it for lunch.
This morning, I awoke to the dulcet sounds of Air Supply ("All Out of Love") on my Alexa alarm, still basking in the glow of a dream where instead of hunting fruitlessly for flour I was talking with a nice, handsome human male. Still feeling pretty perky, I threw on some clothes and ventured downstairs to make a chocolate cake before work started. I zoomed in to the team meeting feeling like it was a normal Tuesday.
It isn't NORMAL Susie! What is the matter with you???
Our brains prove remarkable in their ability to adapt, and somehow mine thinks Google Hangout parties and not going anywhere for more than a week are simply what we do now. And it's OK with that. This adaptation is probably what we have to do to survive insanity, like this news that it's OK to kill our parents and grandparents to save the economy. (Note: It is not OK.) This insistence that everything is perfectly fine and will go away, like a chest cold or a zit. Don't worry folks, that pimple will be gone by Easter.
Except it's not a pimple. It's a virus! And it doesn't care about your timeline.
(My apologies — the news tends to make me ferocious. Please watch this Air Supply video while I calm myself.)
OK. Better now. Except I was singing along pretty loudly and I have a window open. Once again, my apologies to the neighbors.
It's all pretty much status quo here at Aloneness Central. So far I've washed and rehung all my curtains (one of them upside down, but I fixed it). I vacuumed the entire house, reorganized some cabinets, made a cake, cooked a chicken, made polenta. Tonight I'll see if I can turn that leftover polenta into waffles (because why not?). Then I'll watch more Julia Child, bemoan the status of the world, read more of the cheesy British murder mystery I'm plowing through, and with luck have another dream that isn't a nightmare about food shortages.
Because I might be alone indefinitely, but I DO have cake. (Don't worry. It's iced now.)
Mood: Everything is normal. (WTH? No it's not.)
Snacks: Chocolate cake isn't a snack if you eat it for lunch.
This morning, I awoke to the dulcet sounds of Air Supply ("All Out of Love") on my Alexa alarm, still basking in the glow of a dream where instead of hunting fruitlessly for flour I was talking with a nice, handsome human male. Still feeling pretty perky, I threw on some clothes and ventured downstairs to make a chocolate cake before work started. I zoomed in to the team meeting feeling like it was a normal Tuesday.
It isn't NORMAL Susie! What is the matter with you???
Our brains prove remarkable in their ability to adapt, and somehow mine thinks Google Hangout parties and not going anywhere for more than a week are simply what we do now. And it's OK with that. This adaptation is probably what we have to do to survive insanity, like this news that it's OK to kill our parents and grandparents to save the economy. (Note: It is not OK.) This insistence that everything is perfectly fine and will go away, like a chest cold or a zit. Don't worry folks, that pimple will be gone by Easter.
Except it's not a pimple. It's a virus! And it doesn't care about your timeline.
(My apologies — the news tends to make me ferocious. Please watch this Air Supply video while I calm myself.)
OK. Better now. Except I was singing along pretty loudly and I have a window open. Once again, my apologies to the neighbors.
It's all pretty much status quo here at Aloneness Central. So far I've washed and rehung all my curtains (one of them upside down, but I fixed it). I vacuumed the entire house, reorganized some cabinets, made a cake, cooked a chicken, made polenta. Tonight I'll see if I can turn that leftover polenta into waffles (because why not?). Then I'll watch more Julia Child, bemoan the status of the world, read more of the cheesy British murder mystery I'm plowing through, and with luck have another dream that isn't a nightmare about food shortages.
Because I might be alone indefinitely, but I DO have cake. (Don't worry. It's iced now.)
😊
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