I've mostly been winning at quarantine. Lots of exercise, cooking, writing, and chatting with friends. A regular schedule. Productive work. Good attitude.
And then came Day 42.
To cap off Week 6, I woke up at 11:50 am, nursing a headache, rushed to the shower in time to make myself presentable to my family for noon Zoom, then spent a slothful afternoon watching Tiger King, eating day-old cinnamon rolls and pondering whether I felt crappy because I had somehow been infected with COVID-19. Between the sleeping, the Zooming, the eating, the tigers, and the paranoia I feel as though I have experienced all of the key stereotypical elements of American quarantine all in one day. I should have had a Corona to drink to top it off.
Instead, I did right the ship. I ended the day with a (distant) walk with a friend in the pretty green and some yoga. Back on track. Onward.
And then came Day 42.
To cap off Week 6, I woke up at 11:50 am, nursing a headache, rushed to the shower in time to make myself presentable to my family for noon Zoom, then spent a slothful afternoon watching Tiger King, eating day-old cinnamon rolls and pondering whether I felt crappy because I had somehow been infected with COVID-19. Between the sleeping, the Zooming, the eating, the tigers, and the paranoia I feel as though I have experienced all of the key stereotypical elements of American quarantine all in one day. I should have had a Corona to drink to top it off.
Instead, I did right the ship. I ended the day with a (distant) walk with a friend in the pretty green and some yoga. Back on track. Onward.
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