Proof of Life

Many thanks to those of you who got in touch after yesterday’s post to say how much you enjoyed it, particularly laughing at the thought of me shoving Neil’s head through a pane of glass. He asks me to pass on that he has deleted you from his contacts and even after lockdown the door will stay closed if you try and visit. Those of you who expressed concern and reminded me that Family Violence is not OK, please be assured that I wouldn’t actually do it, as much as anything because he is our main wage earner. He is alive and well and the proof is below.

There has been much comment around the world about New Zealand going into strict lockdown after only one case was identified. For those who feel it is an over-reaction, forty-eight hours after that first case, there are now twenty-one cases. Compare with NSW in Australia, which had one initial case, went into a softer lockdown, and yesterday registered 634 new cases. I know where I’d rather be living.

For someone who is easily distracted from tasks, my butterfly mind flitting into territory that has nothing to do with what I’m actually doing, I find it hard to switch focus when I unexpectedly have to. I should have spent the last couple of days rushing around, finishing packing, clearing the apartment for our move. Instead I’ve been, along with the rest of the country, confined to barracks with time on my hands. And I find my hands, along with my brain, can’t settle on anything. My body was psyched up to be active, not sitting at a desk, my creative mind ready to languish in the background for a few days.

I should be using this time to work on an essay for a course, or write a long email to my cousin, but my mind is still sulking and rails against being called into action. My body feels restless, wanting to move around, not sit in front of a screen. I’m aware that this respite could be short-lived and I will suddenly have to galvanise myself into organising mode again, although even if lockdown is lifted tomorrow the chances of a move being re-scheduled within the next couple of weeks are slim to non-existent.

In the last couple of days I’ve eaten more than I should, and done very little. Neil announced this morning that he would ‘make shortbread’. He was lucky that we have flour as there is none in the supermarket. (I made granola, something I do often, it being our go-to breakfast.) So I’m unlikely to slow my eating in the next twenty-four hours. If lockdown gets extended I’ll have to at least get my body galvanised into action.

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