March 23rd 2020
I’ve now been working from home for two weeks. It’s a most unusual experience being an Event Coordinator when events are LIFE THREATENING. FRET NOT, I’m kept extremely busy. Mostly, because I’m a nerd who’s obsessed with being busy. So, I’m drinking in tasks as if they were Gin and Tonic. I actually want to have Gin and Tonic as my job. "What are you?", They’d say. "I’m glad you asked!", I’d say. I’m a professional Gin and Tonic. No further explanation. No further questions. Skype call closed. *DO not DisTURB symbol plings*
My office today is my bed. Needed a change of scenery. I’ve been on calls for two and a half hours in a hoodie with yesterday’s make up on. Out my window, I’m looking on as three elderly neighbours, (one smoking), are having a strange triangular chat. Certainly not 2m apart, but at least they’re making an attempt at social distancing. Brave Korona Warriors of Krumlin (pls don't die).
I’ve spent a good chunk of time in Skype meetings waiting for them to start. Everyone is just silently looking at headshots of each other. I’m imagining them all in their pjs, staring into an abyss of other eldery triangular chats. Questioning coughs. Wibbling their toes in fluffy socks.
I’ve been obsessively walking, pretending like I’m walking to and from work every day like how I used to. I go to the same park every morning and do two loops. Sometimes a bonus half loop if I’ve mustered myself out of bed early enough. No one is distancing properly from each other. One little old lady though, as I puff jogged past her, gave me a big bright smile as I ran up a little hill to avoid her. I like to think she was grateful that I was trying not to kill her. I was smiling back but I don’t know if she could see when I have a scarf wrapped around my face. I knew the rubberbandits were visionary. I didn’t realise that they would become my morning walk style icon. That or some form of roundy ninja who doesn't exist yet. Are there any ninja burlesque acts? That's my outfit of the day inspo babes! All black, all lycra, all woman. As you may or may not be aware, I'm a persistent and insufferable dress wearer. As a result, I'm confident no one who actually knows me would be able to recognise me. The two legs, you see, they're poking out in black lycra where a dress should be. I'm like a spy in a very boring dystopian movie about a boring girl who walks suspiciously all the time. I can't believe they made this into a film.
I find everyone very frightening. They're like little scary creepy hygiene bombs of terror. No longer human. Now threat. It's such a strange experience. Not only the daily terror of men walking near me at night, but of literally everyone. Most especially boys on bikes. I mean, I'll be honest with you. I'm moderately to massively frightened of most people at the best of times. But now the idea that I could kill their granny or them kill mine makes walking a whole new experience. (Note: both my grannies are no longer with us, but you know what I mean). I still gaze adoringly at all the puppies, but have to do vast detours to ensure I don't touch them.
I also managed to murder a fly with my eyeball on one of my three walks today. Maybe it is I who am the danger.
Touch is something I never thought I'd miss. But, elbowing my mother in law to greet her last night was so distinctly odd. (Although, let's face it, we both looked really kool!) I'm so aware of everything I touch now. Or directly after I touch something, I'm extra aware then. Especially as my finger is in my mouth. How does it get there you ask? WHO KNOWS! WHY DO WE ALWAYS TOUCH OUR FACES! WE'RE DISGUSTING.
Existing through times like this has a unique quality to it. A restless, long, threatening, tedious anxiety.
I'm so fortunate to have a comfy lil gaff, a wife I genuinely like, and that I'm able to go out on these suspicious danger walks dressed as a chubby ninja.
With no end in sight, I'll write. Absolute nonsense I'm sure, but you're welcome to read it. I hope to colour the mundanity with some joy by carving out 30mins a day to scribble weird things down at such a weird time. How often have I said weird in the last 500 words? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME! I'M NOT A PROFESSIONAL WRITER LIKE CARRIE BRADSHAW! WHO IS NOT A REAL PERSON! JUST LIKE ME, The Walking Chub Ninja. Tune in for Part 2.
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