Slug-ish

Yes, thank you, I did Photoshop this myself. It's a slug replacing the face of JenAn in Jennifer Aniston's L'Oreal hair ad from a million years ago. I have a Masters in Art. 

You know those ads where a celebrity asks if you feel limp or lifeless? I know they're talking about your hair. But I am your hair today.

I woke up and promptly got dressed up into my chubby ninja uniform of now. Black lycra, black top, black socks, back runners, black soul. I gazed out the window and looked on at this heavy day. It was being all heavy. Immediately, I saw the biggest slug I've ever seen in my life. A snake slug. A visual metaphor for my day if I ever did see one.

In my being a fit-bitch process (fitch? No.), I did a kettle-bell workout before work. Wife got a large lime green kettle-bell in her most favourite shop - Mr. Price! She got it ages ago, sometime before, when we could leave our houses. Go to fancy places, like Mr. Price! Since then, I've only picked it up to clean around it. But, given how well I'm doing with my 'Moms into Fitness' workouts, I decided today was the day to get into it. Beginners Kettle-bells. I clicked on a 30 minuter. The woman giving the YouTube class was 8 months pregnant. This will be grand. Won't it? It was grand. I mean it was sore. IT WAS VERY SORE. But there was a woman who was EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT showing me how to do it. I had no excuse. I have bore no babas. I am that large slug in the damp back garden. Too large for this workout I slither through. She, too, is a Mom, who is in to fitness. They're all at it. Anyway lads I COPED. Am I a ride yet? READY!!!

Wife has been entertaining me throughout this endless day very well. At one stage she told me she wants to be a shepherd for her career. Something about being outside. Where the slugs live. I should let her know she's already living that dream with me. She also did a lot of dancing while I was on calls to various managers. She went for a run. She went for a walk. She's in great form! Unlike this 'lil black cloud. The sun is out now though. Maybe if I go out I'll discover that slugs can become angels through the medium of pregnancy workouts. Wait. Was I doing a pregnancy workout? V difficult. Brave moms into fitness.

Maybe I'll find something inspiring on this stupid walk. In the stupid sun! That I can add to this massive moan I've just written. Sorry everyone.

I AM BACK FROM MY WALK. I even ran a bit. I listened to the Dolly Parton podcast. I'd been saving it for a day like this. A limp lifeless day. It was suitably refreshing. The sun stayed out the whole time. The huge burning globe in the sky unconsciously thanking me for not being such a moanbag 3000. That's a name Wife gives me when I'm especially moany. I extended the walk beyond my usual loop. Breaking routine! A true maverick.  I even considered venturing back to the park. But it was dubh le daoine. That's black with people, an Irish phrase for lots of dopes not socially distancing in a park. Well it means busy, direct translation is 'black with people'. There were also a million green flies on my route. I sense there's one inside my nose as I type. So many everywhere. Midges too. All over the park. Everyone is SO OBSESSED WITH THE PARK. Even insects. Put me right off. Inspired me to run though! Away from all of them! I took to the nice peaceful quiet streets instead. Now I'm back, writing to you, sweating buckets, trying to shake off my moanbags. Should be showering, really. Wife is watching yootoobs! She has her hair in little tiny pigtail buns. I want to pop her in my mouth. She is vee cute.

Isn't it dreadful that you can become a moanbag 3000?! When you can go outside for runs! Away from insects, human and flying! And listen to Dolly Parton's voice! And watch a woman you belong to giggle at yootoobs! Now I'm crying at one of her yootoobs. Miriam Margolyes talking about her partner of 50+years. They can't be together right now. And she wishes they were. "We've got to make the time we have left sweeter", Miriam says. She's right. So this moanbag 3000 is gonna go shower and enjoy her bleedin' evening. We'll get there lads. Call me moanbag 3000 no more, I am now the large slug who could. Do you think slugs are actually really cheerful and have been getting a bad rep all these years? Justice for slugs!

OFF TO LIVE MY LIVING ROOM LIFE NOW! CHAT SOOOOOOOOOON!

Echoes

Yes, that's me! Not Miss America LIKE YOU ASSUMED, ASSUMPTA!!

OF COURSE! It's another glorious Monday! Where I got to sit in my little dark living room! And stare at spreadsheets.


Wife spent the afternoon in the back garden. Smothered in oil. Listening to Brazilian singer people. She's going through her Brazilian music phase right now. There's this MC Rebecca one. Horrifying singer. I mean awful. Yet, somehow her horrible voice makes me want to twerk? Which, readers, I cannot twerk. Wife likes to get into a particular genre of music for an undefined period of time. She will then systematically stab it to death with both our ears by over listening to it. To such an extent that we can never listen to any of those songs ever again. For a while, it was this cool world music stuff, these Arab Jews, singing live in these fabulous tea shops. They were great. Until she impaled them in our minds. I don't speak whatever ancient Yemeni dialect they were singing in, but I can sing every word. Then there was her Fiona Apple phase. Just the one Fiona Apple song, mind. Wife slaughtered her too, right through the eardrums. There was the Euphoria soundtrack period. A dark time. She would only listen to it on YouTube. The worst part? There was this endless wrap up ditty at the end of each song from the Euphoria soundtrack. I listened to that wrap up song 100,000 times. It still makes me angry even hearing the first few notes of it.


Anyway, she's been laid out, near naked in the garden all day. I've been plebbing around in the dark goth living room, being a pleb. Doing the jobs, sending the emails. As I warm myself up in the dark, dark living room, I look out at our ghetto garden paradise. I watch her, yellow headphones on, clothes tucked and squeezed to avoid tan lines. She also has, as CHOSEN reading material, a Spanish dictionary. That is what she chose to take with her into the sunshine. We are dramatically different human beings.


The weekend was actually excellent. Is it awful to say that I'm enjoying this now? The slow pace. The lack of rushing. The uncharacteristically weird healthiness this health crisis has spurred in me. The quality time allocated to friends and to each other. The creativity we've infused into making our home seem different each weekend. I'll be honest. It wasn't excellent. We actually had a spectacular weekend. I KNOW IT'S SO BORING TO TALK ABOUT YOUR WEEKEND! BUT IF YOU'RE READING MY BLOG YOU'VE BECOME INTIMATELY AWARE OF HOW TRULY BORING I AM SO LOOK! LISTEN! LOOK! It will still carve a nice 5 minute hole in your day for you by using your eyes to read this. If you can break away from your fascinating Spanish dictionary, that is.


What did we do, you aren't asking? WELL! We hosted our Quiz for our friends! Two nights in a row. I made lots of funny rounds. Including researching some of the worst wax works ever made and having that as my picture round. Wife did not do much to contribute. Too busy murdering Brazilian music. I also tested my friends on lots of hip hop music lyrics! Of which they had no clue! Even I found it amusing going through the guess the lyrics round. Reciting Jay Z and Tupac in a Blackrock accent. I also had a DIVA round where I researched some of the most DIVA things to ever happen. I was the main winner of that round due to the pleasure I got out of that research.

We awoke to Saturday, where IT WAS NOT RAINING for THE FIRST TIME IN COVID HISTORY. To celebrate, we went on a 14km posh hike through posh streets within our 2km. It was relaxing and fascinating and perfect and I couldn't ask for better. I declared to wife that this shall now be forever known as the 'posh hike'.


Sunday we went for an evening stroll. We happened upon an impromptu concert on this massive circle behind our house. It was brilliant. They had a serious sound system in a front driveway under a little marquee. A man with an angelic voice sang old romantic songs of Ireland. It was reverberating around the square. Echoes of classic Irish songs haunting us. A perfect orangey pink sky as its backdrop. A gentle breeze. A little chilly. I was wrapped up in my bright green coat. Melting into the big circular green. All green. All pink! And there was wife and I, doing slow pretend dance-runs, through the huge big bangor circle. A kinda dance jog, if you will. It was like some kind of beautiful movie. A moment you would write down if you were a romantic person. Slot it into some romantic movie I wouldn't watch. Wife tried to take a photo, but it wasn't the same as what we were experiencing. There's a heightened reality to it. It doesn't work on a phone photo. It was something completely different. Like a new look at our own home. In full technicolour. With surround sound. Especially when all you do is hike around posh houses and work, eat, workout, snooze and laugh in your own four walls. When we got home, we turned our house into a tiny Mexican restaurant. We gorged on filth. We dressed up. Wife decided to do her own Frida Kahlo make up. She looked more like Helga from Hey Arnold! Which made me cry with laughter. And I, well, I am not exaggerating when I say I looked deadly. I'd like to thank Lindsay Brin, creator of Moms into Fitness, for my Mexican outfit deadliness.


I've been a little out of sorts today. A lot to do with jealousy of the great big burning globe outside and me GOING ON ABOUT endless WEBINARS like USUAL. A lot to to do with our lovely elderly neighbour. She was being brought away in an ambulance earlier and I'm worrying about her. Even if you make your weekend turn into something spectacular, it's still difficult. The cheer can always be interrupted amidst a global pandemic. And it should be. It's not normal. It's horrible. I've found such peaceful and beautiful ways to avoid it, though. And I'm trying to enjoy this little slice of peace. Since we must do that for now. It's almost like when you're grieving and you feel you shouldn't laugh or enjoy yourself. I remember when my Mam was dying. The only thing I could watch was beauty pageants. Literally the only thing. It was peaceful. Watching them parade. Answering complex questions. It gave me some peace. I guess it was the predictability and gentle beauty of it. I was ignoring everything else. Just the walking and the waving, and I was at peace.

There's something particularly unique to this time. The fact that I got to do a dance with Wife. In a great big echoey circle! While a man sang beautifully and the sky was bright pink! And the green was bright green! It is definitely something that would not have happened before all this. The fact that I felt like AN ABSOLUTE RIDE last night may have happened in normal times. But I'm not sure it would have as quick. So I teeter. Between worry. And happiness. But the happiness is winning. It's right there. In a bright pink echoey masterpiece. On a big circle in Crumlin. I just have to try not feel shame about that I suppose? Worry can be there, but it's OK to feel happy, right? What would Miss America do?

The un-invisible Lesbian and her Ryanair trials

I grated my own finger today. Top news. I'll be ok thanks. Is this cannibalism?

Not much else to report today.


It is now tomorrow. That was literally all I wrote on Wednesday. I'm supposed to be in Milan right now. At design week. Instead I'm on hold with Ryanair. I'm also using their 'chat bot' at the same time. I applied for my refund a month ago. I received an email from them today saying my refund had somehow become a voucher. Now they're waiting for me to give up. Abandon my efforts and let them take my money. They don't know me. Because I will not let this one pass.

Supposed to be at this spa today that gives out free prosecco and snacks after 5pm. Instead, I'm in my living room. Listening to the contempo-casual soundtrack of Ryanair holding a gun to my head for €151. It's like a country style guitar melody with electronic wind chimes. It's so cheerful. But horrifying at the same time. It's now the soundtrack to my day. A horrifying cheerful ditty trying to take my money. Eventually got through. I did feel for the poor girl on the phone to me. She blazes through her script. I won't get a cash refund until the crisis ends, she cheerfully tells me. But! I'm welcome to use my voucher between now and then! On all the trips we can plan right now! *Shakes fist at sky*

It was a busy day in the working from home webinar world. We were hosting a webinar for 90 people with 7 speakers! It all went suspiciously well. Must be all that preparation we forced them to do. We also had a live stream of a competition final on YouTube. Was supposed to happen in a cinema. So sad. Miss cinemas.

But on to my real virtual world, where I am hosting a quiz this evening! My first! As I have no useful knowledge I have tailored all rounds to suit my high brow needs. Including extra points for outfits! And head-wear! I will run through topics such as DIVAS, 90's music and a picture round. It's nice to have an evening plan! Makes me feel like a human person. Very different from me being prosecco drunk in a whirlpool in Italy, but I'll take what I can get.

It's also lesbian visibility week, that is when us lesbians become un-invisible. I know you've never seen me before but now is your week!

I was actually kinda invisible to myself for a long time. I didn't realise I was a lesbian really until I was about 25. Although I liked kissing girls, I dated men. Well, boys. Pretty, lovely boys, with long eyelashes and full lips and heartshaped faces. A clue there. I did not notice.

How did I not notice? I did everything a classical lesbian would do. I had really intense dramatic earth shattering friendships! With girls! Two of which included actual breakups, now that I think of it. I was dumped, obv. Twice! Listened to Tori Amos, Ani DiFranco, Fiona Apple. Watched Buffy so obsessively that I used to sing the musical whenever I got drunk (still do, sometimes). Favourite movies were Fried Green Tomatoes and a League of their own. The gayest gay lady movies ever! My crushes; Jared Leto. And I didn't realise it at the time, but definitely Amerie and Natalie Imbruglia too. I even bought their singles on CD. HOW did I not know?  

It took some time. And a lot of messing, until I knew that women were just more exciting for me. More beautiful. More mesmerising. They consumed my mind more. And that fascination started to give me clues. Along with those feeling things that started popping up. It was only then that I committed to lesbian content. I bought a book because Oprah had a woman on her show. She was talking about how most women are bisexual on it. Anne Heche was there! The book was called Sexual Fluidity. It was actually a pretty boring book. I still have it. Yet to finish. I then started dedicating myself to the lesbian cause. I ploughed through the L Word. Every single terrible horrible awful lesbian movie ever made. Only decent one was Imagine Me&You, a British rom-com with Cersei Lannister. This was now my thing. My secret thing that nobody knew. (Except, obviously, everyone, apart from me and my Dad.)

I remember when I came out to my Dad. I wrote him a letter. A long sweeping passionate one, about my mother, about the love and support my (now wife) wrapped me in when my mam died. It was to coincide with the Yes Equality vote. I wanted to make sure he voted for me. He texted back saying: "I'm disappointed you're not going to marry a man." He then called me to ask me if I liked his response! He's a funny fish. Later we met for lunch and he said "BUT YOU LOVED BRAD PITT!" He meant well though. And sang so beautifully at our wedding. He now asks for wife all the time in his weekly texts. Took us both some time to get over Brad, I guess.

I never came out to my mom. And I'm not sure why I didn't. There were a million opportunities. And in hindsight, I know now that she was trying to encourage me to tell her. I remember curating a queer exhibition, and she said "why would they ask you to curate a queer exhibition?"

There was another, much gentler conversation. She asked me for advice on one of her friends. Her friend wasn't happy about a gay relationship her daughter was in. My mom couldn't understand it and wanted to know what to say. She asked me if I had many lesbian friends and if I had any advice for her. She went on to say that if it was her child she wouldn't care. As long as they were happy and their mental health was ok. She was practically spoon feeding me my coming out story. With little aeroplane noises! But I was a coward again, I told myself it was because she was sick. She was on chemo at the time. We were chatting in her bed. Where I'd sit with her while she recovered. Her little face swollen from steroids, peering over some glasses. Stacks of books and newspapers piling up at her bedside. A faint scent of Anais Anais perfume. I don't remember what I said, something like, explain it to her that way? Anyway, I did some form of unmemorable deflection. I excused myself then for a moment. I sat on my little single bed in the back room. The same bed where I'd secretly watched all this gay content for hours on end. And I wept. It was a happy cry though. A cry of acceptance. See, though I was invisible to myself for a long time, I was never invisible to her. And, in that moment, I knew that.

It's mad that it's nearly 7 years since I've seen her. I wish she could see my big happy lesbian life now. But instead, I'm putting it on the internet for you to read. How embarrassing! Wonder if she'd read my blog. She would I'd say. She was very supportive. I miss her.

Anyway, there's a bit of meandery story about my own lesbian visibility to myself. It took me a while, but it's good out here being seen. Would be better to be in Milan at a spa, but again, I WILL GET THAT REFUND RYANAIR IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DOOOOOOOOOOO.

x

Wun-ning to wealth

Before you ask, you are right, this is the most 90's dress you have ever seen. Thanks.

Ah hello! It is I again! Purveyor of nonsense. Your friendly local internet woman! Shouting! Into the gaping hole that is our social lives. Here to report on how nothing can be filled up with SO MANY words.

What have I been doing? As much nothing as is to be expected. Webinars are taking over my life. I now watch people not know how to use the internet with headsets on for a living. While I look out at the radiant sunshine and dream of reality. I'm like broken leg Bart Simpson glaring at the luscious fun swimming pool of life. (Aren't you glad you're reading this poetry! I left that with an exclamation point because the answer is clear.)

Went out for a little wun today (a walk/run). I've found this safe little loop with broad pathways. I've been doing it most days now. Broad pathways are a nearby luxury. They are for the upper circle. Or Kimmage, as I like to call it. Full of fancy gaffs is Kimmage. You know the ones. With those lovely 1930's arches leading to their double front door things. Kimmage is one street away from my house. I am parallel to Kimmage. I bet they have a reading 'nook' in their broad, expansive, frankly unnecessary houses. I have a reading nook too! It's the same place where I do my work outs. And my meals, my sitting down, my staring out the window at neighbours, my godforsaken webinars. A multipurpose room.

I imagine them. The Kimmagers. Using different rooms. Taking their money and turning it into wine. I literally jog on. Like a dressed up teenager refused from Lillies Bordello bar in 2003. Except, reality is, I'm a middle aged woman who started to actually jog. I lumber longingly past their lovely homes. Imagining their open spaces. Their various rooms. For various purposes. We actually did a 9K walk around all the rich streets that were within our 2K parameter on Sunday. The rich people have green squares. Sometimes triangles. And tennis courts! Unnecessary beautiful arches! Just for architectural beauty! No purpose. Also, no litter! And they all seem to go on family bike rides in full family bike ride outfits? Stop oozing your money, families. I say in my brain. Lumber lumber. In some ways I can't imagine living in a house that big, though. It would be unnecessary for tiny wife and medium/large sized me. I'll stick to living a 5 min wun from them and drooling over them daily. Do you think they think I'm a kreep? They're right!

BACK TO MY WUN THO! Beat my own time by five whole minutes. That's ten minutes down from the first time I discovered it. It's amazing the things you'll do when you're forbidden from having friends. Like be healthy. I do feel great about myself because of this regular activity. All these fit people were right all along. Being healthy is good for you! Call the police! (it's because you feel smug afterwards. Or like you've done something with your day. When all you're actually doing is weird moves around your living room or lumbering up some fancy road.)

It's odd how your body battles against you feeling nice though. Craving the dirt. The juice. The delirium from a good knees up. The ignorance of your quivering liver. I still remember the first Easter I fully committed to over eating. I was in a big pink dress with a weird pattern on it. Was it made out of corduroy? And it had a frilly bib thing! HA! Must find photo. Anyway, I remember my auntie making a toblerone chocolate sauce for dessert. This was after the one million dinner I'd squeezed into that pink corduroy frame. I then remember having to lie down and do deep breathing exercises. I thought my tiny body would explode. I do still love gorging myself. But..........

I interrupt this blog to let you know that an emergency happened. A spider was on my head. I did a good old fashioned 'Rage against the machine' headbang for him. What is it about the summertime? We have a million new gigantic 8 legged housemates. Some little ants too. All these little creeps in our gaff. I guess like attracts like. I wonder if Kimmage people have some form of rich people safe spider capture contraption? Made up of their wealth. I'd sip a rosé in one of their gardens right now. Instead I have to go to another meeting at 6.30pm, while wife suns herself in our ghetto garden. Slotting in some blog time between. GETTING. ALL. THE. BITs. DONE!

Today has been weird. I've had so many webinars that I don't remember what reality is anymore. Are we in a suspended reality right now? Getting used to koronatown is pretty unlikely. But there is a sense of routine to it now. I actually overslept this morning. Luckily I only overslept to 9am and my commute was to, well, downstairs. So there wasn't a massive interruption to my day. But can there ever be a normality in a global pandemic? 

What is has made me realise, though, is the potential of our tiny home to bring me so much happiness. It may not have unnecessary curves JUST FOR BEAUTY. But it does have gallons of comfort. It provides everything I could ever need right now in this moment. (APART FROM TOUCHING THE FACES OF MY FRIENDS AND FAMS OBV.)

As each creepy day passes into some phase of a new normal, I do feel very grateful that we have this little haven. It may not be perfect. Or how we want it to look yet. We've GREAT extension plans! So that I can finally start scheduling in the touching of the faces of my friends for many hours. I'll show them my display case! (It's imaginary right now) With its little sculptures on display! And cool toys Wife has collected. All while I enforcably gorge them with toblerone sauce. And full glasses! TO THE BRIM! I'll let them soak up the sun in our little ghetto garden, which will NOW partly be our SUNFILLED kitchen. And make them watch whatever funny YouTube I can't stop watching at the time. I hope that real normal doesn't leave us for too long, because I've only just realised LADS I'm actually rich! Not many room spider contraption rich. My life is rich! With stuff of actual significance! Like a comfy home, a sound wife, yummy food in my tummy and a perfectly sunny garden. Full of dandelions and bees and my endless thoughts. (I moved outside for this bit!)

The new normal may be sad and scary, but I'm safe here in my crumlin shaped cocoon. And for that, I'm the luckiest boring word filled internet woman in the whooooole wide world. So I'll put a pin in my incessant moaning for a minute. I'll still look at the beautiful curves of the gaffs of bike riding families. But I don't wish I was them. I'm good. I'm safe. And I'm as happy as you could be in the middle of a GLOBAL PANDEMIC. And I'll take that.

x

Pollen

Writing to you on location. Direct from the garden. Can't see a thing. The glare is very intense on my little crappy laptop. With everything stopped, I'm grateful for our little ghetto garden. Let me take you on a tour! It has a rotten shed! White walls, with a gentle green tint! "Eau de Mould", they called it in the magazines. A ghetto bbq made by Wife! And me, sitting in it, on a little fold out chair. Although every normal thing has stopped, it's different out here (on location). Our back garden's flooded with dandelions and happy bees. Loud flappy birds with thousands of weird names fly overhead.  Rare birds, I'm sure you've never heard of them. I've studied them carefully for years and thus know their names.  MR. PIDGE, Señor SEAGULL, MONSIEUR MAGPIE and Tim Heron.  It's strange how all their weird croaks mean something in their planet. Do you think they know about the lockdown?

It's another blursdsday in lockdownaforina, costa del crumlin. The weather is magnificent. There's a chorus of barking dogs, screeching birds and buzzy bees. Reminds you that normality continues for most creatures.

Sadly, I too am continuing with normal body stuff. Like LADY TIME. That part of the month. Where your belly explodes and you bleed and you groan and you moan and you're an awful, horrible person. I can't believe we don't get time off from that. Mine's been particularly bad this time. I sometimes get ones so bad that I have these fainting episodes. They are suitable only for women in corsets who live in the 16th century, swooning onto a chaise longue. Here in the future, I stagger up a staircase. I manage to finally throw myself on our big white bed. Sweat dripping, deep breathing, wife looking over thinking this time, I'll definitely die.

The ache is so unimaginable, it almost takes away from the regular old homely KORONA anxiety. I was up most of the night with this pain as a refreshing change. Wife wibbling about in the bed beside me, I'd restructure her hand so that it worked as a human hot water bottle for me. She woke herself at one stage, shouting out "FAKE BABY!" in the middle of the night. Fabulous entertainment!! Distracted from the ball of daggers in my lower stomach. I cannot believe that both of these are natural things too. Wife sleep shouting. Me hugging my stomach as if it would help.

Such is the glare on my lil laptop, I now wonder if I'm actually writing any sentences. I can see nothing. This might read like a Mary Poppins song. (It didn't! Bless my million years of being an administrator typist woman!)

I'm in a full black outfit. The heat is fabulous. Radiating off my body. Wife is playing a Fiona Apple song while preparing THE DINS. A dark Fiona Apple song. Very suitable for this little garden goth. Very at odds with the cheerful springy bees. I saw one bee so excited about our prized collection of dandelions that he went full upside down on the flower. Doing a drunk flip. Adorable.

All those webinars everyone was losing their reason over are starting to get going now. So I have loads to do. Fun jobs. Designing invites. Photoshopping people's head-shots in perfect little circles to fit into templates. Peaceful activities. I still have that dense document hanging over my head from a few weeks ago. Still have no notion what's going on with it BUT I CHIP AWAY. It's like a vortex of the mind, that document, screaming at me with long paragraphs of legal shpeeeagel. I sit there dizzy, watching it, and go back to my pretty jobs of turning faces into circles. Are documents my pollen? That's sad.

I had a revelation yesterday evening where I started to think about if our former lives are now in the past. How I didn't appreciate my little free life enough. It's always the same, that last moment you've had and how you don't realise it's the last one. Thinking about how my last club night was so good but not the best one I've ever had. How we dropped into a friends house on a weekday evening. Supped tae as they ate a gorgeous risotto. How I now can't touch this tiny dog we saw outside yesterday. She came up fiercely barking at us, then being so friendly when she arrived at her little gate. I was talking to her like she was a little baby. Because she was. A perfect little baby pup. And I couldn't touch her, so I motioned a weird leg towards her. I'm not sure what message that gave, but the sentiment was pure adoration. I hope she got that. Might wibble my leg at her again today. My neighbours must love me.

Speaking of! I can hear a human neighbour now. He keeps shouting WHA! Someone calling him in for the dinner I imagine. We are having a celebratory BBQ this eve is WHA , good sir! Thanks for asking. It's 'cause I got good news in my real human lady life work job today! Do you like my collection of dandelions and all my bees? Thank you.

Nature update: a bird altercation! Between a magpie and a crow! On my very own roof.  Wildlife eh! Is this like I'm in a pub? A garden pub! They're my entertainment. May have something to do with the glass of wine served to me a moment ago. I love watching a good bird altercation. My very favourite Valentine's Day ever included one actually! Wife and I ended up in the basement of Pantibar. We watched the single most entertaining altercation between a young lady couple. One forgot to get the other a card. There were ructions! She seemed then to have run to the closest spar and gotten an emergency one. HARMONY! JOY! Romance! Rapture! There was lots of kissing and face touching and all those forbidden things nowadays. They got very into it. I'm talking rolling around on other people's tables. Slamming themselves into booths. Mounting each other. A kind of 90's boy-band lap-dance happened? UNMISSABLE. Anyway, THERE WAS A TURN. Card giver was no longer pleased. She ripped up her own emergency card in front of card-ee. She stormed out, the shredded card pieces floating like confetti in her wake. Romance had died. Never to be seen again. It was like something from a lesbian web series I would definitely watch on YouTube. BUT IT WAS REAL LIFE. I still wonder about them. And thank them. With my spirit. From my little goth garden chair. Clink! Goes my red wine glass. Against my teeth.

Since I last blogged, not much else has happened, really. I've been bleeding to death! And my last MIF workout seems to have turned my little left knee inside out. So, I've not been doing my chub lady ninja walkies today. My main hobby is now watching bees bury their faces in a big yellow dandelion. I'll be back to being a person tomorrow I'm sure. Another Friday in lock-in. I'm so fortunate to have little Wife and our little gaff. It's a happy and comfortable place to be. I can't believe we own it. I often sit in the garden and think I own this?! Although I'll be 37 this year, I still feel like an absolute child. That's LATE THIRTIES. I guess clubbing's due to be dead for me by now anyway.

If it is all over, life as we knew it I mean, it makes me realise how good my life actually was. You don't have that lens of 'this will be the last time' you do something until you can't do it anymore. That weekday evening, as we watched our friends eat risotto, and we had cuppas. At my favourite little white round table. I didn't realise it would be the last time I'd sit at their little white round table for months. The same little white round table I've sat at for thousands of parties. I like to think of a time-lapse of me sitting there. Friends swirling past. Flashes of colour! A whip of a homosexual fan. Crisp bowls filling and emptying. BBQ foods piling up, then gobbling up. Gay boyfriends dancing on chairs in wigs. Hugging me with their moist beards and fresh scents. Chats through the barn door. And me, in the centre. Sitting at that little white round table. Happy. Like those upside down bees. One day I'll be the bee. I won't be bleeding. I'll be at the top of a little white round table, flurries of friends passing me like whirlwinds. I remember it now, but not well enough. Next time, I'm going to taste it. I'm going to drink it in. I'm going to touch them on their faces and I'm going to say thank you for being my lovely friend. For adding colour to my life. For swirling around me with dizzying joy. My pollen.

Sixty shades of silence

This is from a song that me and my most best boy sing to each other. We hold each other's faces and whisper it. As if it was written for me and him. It's called Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode. Seemed appropriate for this post. Miss holding his face!

Good afternoon! Hello! How are you? Are you still reading my blog? I can't believe it. There's so much nonsense. You are nice to me. I've written so many words now about doing nothing in my own gaff. Except for veering between states of fear, nosiness and sheer boredom. (Plus exercise obv. Am almost Kate Moss.) 

I appreciate that people are reading and enjoying it though. I've had many lovely messages about it, and that does make me happy. 

Mostly, this is a selfish endeavour. Giving me some form of purpose. Allowing me to rearrange my thoughts. So that I don't have a constant drone of threat womp-womp-womping in my ears. Instead, I'm reporting to you! On the dedicated process two neighbourhood dogs take to make puppies. (Still at it! They put the trier into terrior, god love 'em.)

It was weird Easter this weekend. Or Weir-ster? Doesn't work does it. Not like Fetch. I was a bit gutted about all the lack of craic. Good Friday has always been great for me. Closed pubs led to knees ups in houses of favourites. A rush to gather gallons of alcohol. Dance in kitchens. Craic has always been paramount to my lifestyle. It has a lot to do with my trademark roundiness. I enjoy imbibing with friends, talking nonsense. Eating snacks they hand me. Now I type nonsense to the public about my mid thirties life with limited drinks, and virtual friends.

We had two quizzes over the Easter break. It was vee nice to see all my little friends in a tiny box. I also had a few separate face hangs with friends who have faces. I got to see a tiny baby called Ted. He smiled at my digital face and made the world so much better! I would recommend spending some digital time with a friends baby's face if you can slot it in.

In the larger groups for virtual hangouts, it's better to do an activity than actually hang out online. I can't cope with the unnatural flow of conversation. It's like we're having a friendship business meeting. Everyone waiting for their moment to express their completely unnecessary point. Plus if you're not a loud kinda person, your point will never find its time to slot in. 

You know what I miss? Side conversations. Where a group of people are chatting and there are 2 or three conversations going on. I'm quiet in a group setting, and like to try listen to all three. Unless someone is directly asking me something, then I engage! But mostly I like to observe my friends. The passion they bring to talking about particular things. Or even their amusing nonsense. And I know I'm so fortunate to get to see their actual faces. I miss being a quiet person at a party, and the buzz, and the kitchen dancing.

Kudos to wife though, we did do a fair bit of private kitchen dancing for Weird Easter. Spread it out to the living room too. Sometimes if she asks me a question I don't want to answer, I'll just dance for a while. I even recited the entirety of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air rap for her while we cooked together. It's like some cringey montage of lesbians being harmonious. We disgust even myself. 

We created healthy dirty dinners all weekend. American diner style fodder. Chicken wings. Burgers. Stacked chips. All made by our own hands. With spray oil! In ovens! An accomplishment. Despite our gaff being tiny, we've lugged the garden table into the house so that we can have meals together. At A TABLE. Like Adults! A change from pre KORONA land. Where we use flamingo pillows as food trays. We would chow down while watching the latest bit of nonsense available to us. Though at a table now, we still sit in silence.  Instead of terrrible teevee, we listen to music while we eat.    (WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER NEARLY 8 YEARS and have spent WEEKS hanging only with ourselves. THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO SAY.) But, it's a nice, accomplished silence. I've found myself eating slow. Appreciative of the dirty food we've made ourselves. Sipping out of crystal glasses like the JAYSUS LAWD HIMSELF.

The latest lock-in extension is now to May 5th. No surprises there to be fair. However, I have become a bit adverse to going out now. For some reason, I've decided if I stop going out, SOMEHOW, this will end sooner. Then I'll be able to see my friends with their actual faces! And sit in silence with them too! My phone bomb told me that social distancing will continue until a vaccine. That's a heavy weight to carry. Something I would have preferred not to have known. I'm a person who wants to submerge into other people. Shouting at them to play whatever song is my fav at the time. Sloshing a drink around. Smiling as a response to questions. Sneaking out early to pass out. For someone so bad at being social, I've only realised now how much I miss it. 

Spent lot of the weekend doing a whole lot of nothing. Reading, watching stuff. Staring out the window. Making mystery cupboard cocktails. I realised I haven't taken time off from work since November last year. (To go see Lizzo in Amsterdam - THANK JAYSUS FOR THAT TRIP). And I only took one day off at Christmas. And so that 4 day weekend was the first time I got to sit. Sit! And do NOTHING! It was lovely! And I felt zero guilt about it.

I saw it was national sibling day, plus that shine a light thing happened. If I was a normal person still, I would write a big long honest and grateful post. Emblazon it on my insta/fb. All about sisters and life and light. How tough it is to be so far away from everyone. How my own sister is working the covid unit. But instead, i just sat down. Let the nothing seep in. And I watched people create all the content. All the world continuing to move, all the fireworks and lanterns glimmering in the sky. Wife lit a little tea light in our window. And I just sat. Don't worry though, I still did my Mom's into Fitness workout and I even did some yoga with no mat like a healthy person. Helps with the guilt I don't have. Am I lying to myself about the lack of guilt? 

There's a great big ball of fire in the sky today! It was also there on zombaby jesus Sat too! We even had our dinner OUTSIDE. Both today AND on Saturday. Picnic table is getting great use! Moving hither. Moving Tither. Balancing our plates as we stuff ourselves. Putting ourselves in different venues to have the only noises exchanged between us be... MMMmn. Or if it's excellent.. mm mmm MMM! We've been excelling at the home dinners of late. Well she has. I just make chips, really. 

A thread you may have noticed throughout this post is how much silence I seem to enjoy. But there's a silence that is full. Of love. Of people you like. Of songs that sway you and how you can let them move you. Of drinks that keep topping themselves up and the crisp fizz of a fresh one. It's a rich, full silence. Built by those who are precious to you. Of the musk of your shiny clean friend. As you grab them and sniff them in. I know I'm so fortunate to fill that silence with delicious food noises with Wife. But, I definitely miss the silence of being in the centre of a big joyous buzz. Of friends wrestling me as I try to dance out the door. And I can't wait to be silent in the centre of a big room of brilliant humans. All talking nonsense. I'll be listening. Until then, I'll keep you posted on puppy creation project 2020.

x

How I discovered I idolised a Heron.

My friend, Tim Heron.

WELCOME! It is Wednesday as I write this PART. I've done A MILLION THOUSAND HUNDRED THOUSAND MILLION JOBS today! Means I'll likely include HOLY BLURSDAY in this too! A bonus extra long read for my friends! Wednesday has been productive because I only had one Skype meeting. Which lasted an Anna Wintour approved 15 minutes. (She never let's them go longer than that. When I grow up I'll be just like her. She was 39 when she took over Vogue US. I have 2.25 years to do the same.)

It's a stunningly beautiful day. But, I went to the shop for the first time in three weeks yesterday. (Needed to buy emergency gin amongst other emergency items). I did not enjoy my shop experience. No one is socially distancing. Yes they're all wearing creepy gloves and using the hand sanitizers. A lot of them are wearing masks as weird chin warmers? I'm glad your double chin is now warm, weird shop goers. But, they're not trying to keep a safe distance from each other. We were even called up in the checkout queue well before the cashier was ready. We were standing there, like dopes. Me with my PARANOID EYEBALLS POPPING OUT OF MY BRAIN. Doinnnnng, my eyeballs said! PANIC, they bounced!! And we were less than a breath from the next cashier. Although we had our backs to each other, it's hardly the 2m distance I've been so keen to observe on all my little walkies. I worry so much for all those lovely people working everywhere now.

And so, the beautiful day has now become overcast. As I've looked on, and spent a lot of time worrying (between my million jobs, obv). There's a woman across the road who visits her elderly parents three times a day. Bringing them their meals and newspapers I'm guessing. She's masked and gloved up to the HILT. Yet, two of our neighbours, KEEP approaching her.  (Middle aged women from two separate houses) They open her car door and chat away to her as if this is a normal Wednesday. Usually with a cigarette hanging out of their mouths. BEHAVING AS NORMAL. As if my main source of entertainment this week has been watching two dogs fall deeply in love FOR NO REASON. I can't get my head around it. Started shouting at them from inside my guts. Not outside though. I'm WAY TOO POLITE for any neighbourly confrontation. Quite different from Wife. When one of them approached her, she told them to stand back. My hero.

Is it that people are avoiding the news so much that they've missed all this? I feel as though it's so clear? How are people behaving so normally? I can't fathom it.

Naturally I had a very active evening of nightmares last night. In one of these mares, Wife and I were in a quarantine. Nigella was also there? Which would have been great, except we weren't allowed to touch ANYTHING AT ALL. And it was very ominous and frightening. A pristine white room. Shiny frightening surfaces. All these people were landing in on air planes to join us and it was very overwhelming.

Please note, I would like to welcome Nigella back to my dreams post KORONA, tell her agent!

IN OTHER NON NEWS FROM WEDNESDAY: Tim Heron visited us! Who is Tim Heron? I'm glad you asked. Tim Heron is a heron that visits our garden on a regular basis. He was on our back wall today. He is my friend. He doesn't know he's my friend. But, he is. With his wise flowing feathers, slender knowledgeable limbs. He is my Korona Gandalf. Standing on things. Staring at things. Being out and about. Above us all.

Actual news was that new laws came into effect today! Giving Gardaí the ability to arrest people if they go beyond 2km from their homes. What a weird world we're living in right now. I miss the freedom of Tim Heron, flapping about with his long elegant beard. Like a bird wizard, who is free. But, I know I'd miss the many people we could save much, much more than this temporary loss of freedom.

I made the mistake of looking at something today too. The beautiful obituary section recently released on the New York Times website. All these fascinating, vibrant, gorgeous people lost to this insane virus. Who didn't get a proper goodbye. Who made incredible differences in the world.

My own big sister will be going for another shift in the Covid Ward on Saturday.

Seems like the biggest pile of idiocy now. My freaking out over a webinar about webinars yesterday.

In brighter romance news: horny dog is waiting outside lady dogs house for possible shags. He's been there most of the day. She comes to the window and sits on the top of the sofa. They watch each other. It's like our own private soap opera without the fade outs for the moments you don't want to see. I'll keep you briefed on this ongoing love story.

Another nice thing! Our state sanctioned postcards arrived! Along with a magical one from one from one of the very best people on this planet. It's only in the guise of this anonymity that I can be openly kind to him. We have more of a 'let's insult each other all the time' relationship. WELL, I'm not exaggerating when I say it was the most perfect postcard I've ever SEEN! Tim Heron even got a special mention! It made me so happy. Yet sad I can't see this little menace who penned it. Some weird juice even started falling from my eyeballs. Must be allergic to external kindness.

Typing now to the soundtrack of Wife cutting her own fringe. A little fluffy fro fringe. She wants her eyebrows covered in her journey out, I'm told. She turns to me, "Rick James with questionable eyebrows." she decides. She's been speaking a lot about how the wind flows through her leg hairs nowadays too. In a wistful, ambitious way. Almost how I imagine Enya would talk about it.

I went for a little loner walk while Rick James was out. Tried exploring this land that Tim Heron calls his home....THE OUTSIDE. I was trying to soak up some of this sun juice people always talk about.

Immediately as I went out to the end of my road, WORRY ARRIVES! Hiya Worry!  A 21st birthday party round the corner, IN A FRONT GARDEN. Balloons adorned it. Pink ones, with 21 on them. Like an advertisement on how to ignore social distancing. And to tell me what age the moronic party person was.

I was wearing sun cream from Lidl. I did a rage walk and lots of deep breaths. Would recommend! Not the sun cream part though. THE SWEAT!!!!!!!! Ded.

Well, it is now HOLY BLURSDAY. I was in meetings from 9.30am - 1.05pm. WOULD NOT RECOMMEND. The sun cream sweat of days. Randy dogs got action again, thank god for them. HOLY BLURSDAY should end with a bottle of wine, I've now decided. Would mean having to visit a shop though. 

I bet Tim Heron had no meetings today. He stands there, while we all freak out, being free. 

Do I wish I was Tim Heron? Is that what I'm trying to say? With all this Korona, I'm imagining I'll have a fine beard by the end of this. And with all this exercising I'm doing, I too will have slender bird like limbs. But, forget all that, I'll be free. That's the thing I'll really look forward to.

x

Viva forever - Hasta mañana- always be Rachmaninoff

Although I would like to regale you with many tales of my fascinating Monday! Unfortunately, there was not much to report. I mostly watched two tiny dogs shagging in the driveway opposite my house. Endless pounding, pounding, POUNDING. They will make the tiniest puppies in the whole wide world. It will be the best thing that has ever happened. So thank you, tiny, randy dogs. For being tiny. For being randy. And for my future puppy.  OH wait, i'm looking out now and they're AT IT AGAIN.


Yesterday was actually comprised of my preparing a webinar! To train people about delivering webinars! The Webinar Vortex, I'll call it! Where, if you say webinar enough times, you disappear forever! INTO YOUR OWN SOUL. It was this morning, this webinar of webinars. A distinct and profound torture. Of course, I pressed something wrong almost immediately. Ended up forcing my lovely colleague, who was the host, to cancel the event and re-set it. A glimmering example of the ease of this technology. I got all dressed up for my shitty webinar of webinars this morning. Put make up on! Curled my hair! Did ALL THE BITS. Except not press the wrong button. Oh no! It went well though. People, as usual, were SO SOUND. Everyone is MAD to do webinars. The only thing I'm mad for is a good quiz.

The AMOUNT of quizzes I've done since the beginning of this disaster! It is the only thing keeping me alive right now. It gives me an excuse to drink. (Wife not a big drinker, BUT if you're participating in a quiz, you're NOT ALONE, and can have a drink). I should note that I have no knowledge. Thus, dreadful at quizzes. Somehow I love them though. It's like how I love University Challenge. I have NONE of the answers. But there's something pleasurable about feeling your face contort. Sniffing the air as if RACHMANINOFF will always be the correct answer for any question. Like the empty, brainless, vessel that you are. Rachmaninoff sometimes is the answer! Mostly it's not. It's a pleasant hum though. All this knowledge is out there! You don't "have" any of it but you COULD if you tried. There's a quiz tonight. I'll be drinking Gin and contorting my face to the soothing images of my dear friends. Repeatedly asking Wife if it might be Rachmaninoff?

To calm myself after the trauma of the innaugural Webinar Vortex, I went for a brisk walk with wife face. I forgot to change out of my webinar outfit. She dressed as a tiny, fluffy football player with perfect boobs. I dressed as a lady in a red dress with runners. I was there for the calming air and to stop myself from self-scolding. I would have spent that time persistently thinking about button pressing. Also focusing on how I say the word "SO" WAY TOO OFTEN - like ALL THE TIME! And touching my face like a disgusting unhygienic (normal) freak! Wife had decided this was a run. So I said Feck it! And I ran! In a red dress! It was decent. But not breathable. I once ran the women's mini marathon in a full 1950's tea dress. Which is one of those big huge hoopy ones with an underskirt. (When I say ran. I definitely walked.) So yes, this is officially my first foray into dress running. I remember as a child I used to see this man passing me on the Stillorgan Road. I hobbled to school BEING A DARK AND MYSTERIOUS TEENAGER. He ran past me IN A FULL SUIT. Full Running. Every Day! I bet his coworkers appreciated his musk.

Anyway, during our run walk in a dress with a footballer boob lady, we saw another man running past us. Do not fear, he wasn't dressed like THIS WEIRDO. However, he was the Monica Seles of runners. If you haven't heard Monica Seles play tennis, it's only now that I realise it. She sounded like she was having loud, and satisfying, sex. Like the puppies above. It's cringey now. Because I used to imitate her during Wimbledon season, when we'd play tennis out on the street as kids. Did not know the implications of that noise. Neither did this Monica Seles Running Man. He had headphones in, so I'm guessing he doesn't realise the volume of his grunts. Though I find that curious. THEY WERE SO LOUD. And well done to him. On the HEALTH! I could have done without knowing how he sounds at the moment of climax. And all I could think was DROPLETS............dropppppppppp letttttttttttttttttts.

As he climaxi-jogged past us, there were two neighbours. They were having a socially distant chat across the road from each other. We went into the centre of the road. To maintain the distance! (Sound like that) But as we passed, the woman said, "Do you think this is what it's going to be like forever?" She wasn't talking to us. She was talking to her neighbour friend. Across us. But I'd like to take this moment to respond to her. And I'd like to tell her that no, it won't be like this forever. But if you'd like, you could log in to my webinar about webinars? Where I will press the wrong button? I'll gladly show you how not to run a webinar by running my webinar about webinars? You too can know success! By running in a dress! Or by watching your neighbour's dogs make love! Or while sipping a gin at a quiz. Keep screaming RACHMANINOFF at the muted screen. It will bring you peace. And climaxi-jogger is bound to get better at running. He's really trying! I heard him! That won't be like that forever either. xo

A TWO DAY ACCOUNT THAT TURNED INTO BISCUIT ANALOGIES

The very first nickname I ever had for my wife was Wriggly Sue. There have been many more over the years. Mousewoman, Fluffy, Shithead. I never call her by her actual name. Wriggly Sue has always stuck though. That is because she wriggles an unreasonable amount in her sleep.

Plagued with COVID and Tiger King related nightmares, the wriggling has intensified. This has made for many elbows, bony arses and "BAAAAABE, I can't SLEEEEEP"s plaguing my own snooze time. I can only imagine the Ligers in masks crawling through her brain, so I do feel empathy. Even though I have to get up before 8, do my MOM's INTO FITNESS work-out and get to 'work work'. Maybe I can start calling it work 'in', after my work 'out'. Thank you. Yes, I have been watching a lot of Mad Men.

All the TV stations and press briefings are writing stay at home everywhere. Are there people who are not staying at home? Who are these morons? Joggers have graduated to my least favourite human beings. I'm aware that their flagrant health means that they are above me. But, running up behind me and not even allowing me the option to give you a Wide Berth feels oppressive. I never thought my oppression from skinny people would include actual FEAR. But, here we are.

I'll be honest. I did not write a thing yesterday. It was Wednesday after all. And on that Wednesday, I had the get-go of a soggy biscuit. It's transplanted itself to today, too. I would productive-ise myself all over town, but every time I move, I crumble into a limp, delicious bit of gloop.

I did not have much of an opportunity to note down amusing things yesterday. There was a dense document. I was talking about it in my Tuesday ramble slot. Well, it's still dense. To the extent that I couldn't even identify what amusing was any more. Well, I threw my hands up in the air. Waved them around like I just didn't care. And I sent it to my colleagues for help. It's away with them now, those smart people. They'll fix it.

ON THE OTHER HAND, I did have a magical visit from a flame-haired angel friend. We distance hugged from a distance. Like that  Mary Black song. She brought me organic wine. For she is an angel. It was horrible not being able to go there and grab her and throw all my love at her. But it was also magic because i got to see her little face. She, is magic. And brought a pure glow to the day.

Sadly I also discovered something else unsettling, that I wouldn't recommend. Suggesting a Netflix Party for your colleagues to cheer them up. Turns out they'll try schedule it at unreasonable hours. NINE PEE EM!!! NINE! PEE! EM!! I understand, they have reproduced. I'm so lucky. I could  watch ANYTHING right now! ANYTHING! Nymphomaniac? THROW IT ON LADS! NO KIDS HERE. SO yes, I get it. Sadly, as event coordinator, I've found myself doing a lot of non-promotable tasks. Someone was briefing us on this on International Women's Day. It was but a whisper before the KORONAKREEP was born. It was on how people end up taking on non-promotable tasks. How those people generally have vagines. The slide within that presentation should have had a photo of me, with a thumbs up, asking if I could do anything to help?

DO YOU KNOW WHAT WAS THE BEST/WORST PART? I decided to suggest Bandersnatch for this staff "event". That's a movie where you get to choose how it will go. GREAT FUN! I said! INTERACTIVE! I said. EVERYONE WILL HAVE A GREAT TIME! I grunted. WE'LL ALL LAUGH AND ENJOY OURSELVES. I whispered. Netflix watch party gives EVERYONE CONTROL! Democracy in action! Our system of togetherness, working together, for the common goal of Charlie Brooker's brain. WHAT COULD BE BETTER.

Disaster, friends.

I don't know how many people logged in. Netflix party, though FAB, does not suit a group of colleagues who all want to make a decision at once. I lasted twenty minutes of the movie. That twenty minutes TOOK AN HOUR. Realised I was still kind of working at 10 pee em. On something I defo can't add to the CV. Decided against throwing my laptop out the window. Opted for spending some time with Wriggly Sue instead. The chocolate kimberly of human beings.

She was wriggling around downstairs being a cute little fluff. We talked nonsense. Laughed 'til we cried. Watched peaceful yet underwhelming 'Home of the Year' (THEY'VE RUN OUT OF HOUSES. BRING BACK CATHEDRAL MOVE-ABLE BOOKCASE WINNER OF SEASON 1). And we drifted off for another night of apocalyptic lion tiger virus wriggle attacks.

Ups and downs, friends. Ups. And Downs. Perhaps I'm a wriggly sue OF THE MIND. Yes, thank you. I did study philosophy during my Masters. LOOK where it's got me. In leisure wear. On a Thursday. In Crumlin. Not allowed to go beyond 2km. Worrying about ALMOST everything. 

Fear not! The Korona Kronciles will continue. Tomorrow, when I'm no longer a soggy biscuit, but a crisp, fresh, pink wafer. The sun came out as I typed that, and it beamed down on to my tiny little feet. (they are unreasonably small) We'll be ok. Sez the sun. There's a pink wafer in us all.

Tuesday the 31st of Forever

It is now Tuesday, the 31st of Forever. I am beginning my fourth week of working from home.
I struggled a lot on Monday. Despite attempting to maintain positivity, yesterday was not a good one. I did do some writing, which you may not have read. It's here. It's dark, despite my trying to pry positivity out of it's COLD DARK CLAMMY HANDS. It does help to write. I recommend! I posted it earlier than I usually would and did not cover the VAST ACTIVITIES that occurred last night. Please accept my humblest apolzzzzzz. (I'm quite sure you don't care, which is v fair.)

Well, my three readers, I did a lot last night! Ok, no did not do much last night. Of what I did do, there were two amusing things.

1. Tried to do a family chat with wife's family over FB messenger. Three of them were so consumed with putting filters on the faces. Two were in the same room. So there was reverb and cackles. This was all while mother in law tried to get the camera to work.  Very zen. Once they were all up and running, there was silence. They were all too busy turning themselves into bunny rabbits. I didn't mind though because it meant drinks were permitted and I sat in a peaceful, mournful silence! Schlurping sauvignon blanc. Suited my awful mood very well.

2. Also! Wife inadvertently dressed as a baseball player from 1945. It was actually the same outfit she had worn at about the age of 6. I have this collection of extra gay photos of my wife as a child that I have saved and like to look at. So cute. There's the baseball player one. There's one where she's running around with her top off. She's showing off her tiny little baby lady muscles! Right beside her fully clothed cousins! It's so perfect. And there's my very favourite one. It's of her as the most delighted little tiny thing on a full size toy tractor. Complete with sailor hat.

This morning I realised I'd been doing a lot of in house workouts (MIF) and not going on my little chub lady walkies. All since the lock-in announcement. Bit more scared. Bit less walkies. This was a mistake. As I discovered this morning. Popping out for a 45min triple loop around my park was next level nice. There's lots of air out there, calming, spirtual, Enya-like air. It soothes you. Being with the nature. Looking up at the big dirty grey dull sky. Gazing at all the discarded dog shits in their little littered poo bags. Refusing to pet the most perfect velvet dog who bounded over to me to say hello. And thinking about how this will all end soon. All these things will be normal again one day. I know it doesn't feel like soon right now. But, if I've learned anything about my whole entire long old lady life, it's that it will fly by. Sure amn't I four weeks in my home now!

Four weeks of working from home.

Peaceful in the household working from home today. Washing machine is running at the same time as wife is mowing the lawn. I'm trying to go through a complex tender document. The conditions are immaculate.

Twenty minutes later. Now both the front and back doors are open. Front garden is being done now too! I have become a tiny icicle. While working from home. Still working on that super dense document. But now as a character from Frozen. I'm glad you asked. I'm the gay one.

We went for a co-walk at lunchtime today. Single file. Wide Socially Distant Berths for all. She discussed the carnage in the aftermath of my sub par cookery skills. I mean I don't know what she's talking about. There are a few implements used to make my daily salad. I've been eating it every working day for a full three months now. I only use a peeler, a grater, a chopping board, a bowl, two spoons, a fork and a knife. CARNAGE!! BLOODSHED. I guess there are a lot of elements of dishwashing within that. Neither of us are big fans of washing dishes. I dream of a day where this virus is gone. Where we're walking outside! Rubbing velvet doggies! Where I'm eating my identical salad somewhere else. Where we can buy a dishwasher. Dream big! Everything is possible.

I also had another big long after work meeting about another event I'm working on for the love of it. I am an actual lunatic. I spent so long with my Madonna headset on today, that my ear actually aches. 12 hours of headset time Don't know how Madonna does it. Bet she has a dishwasher.

So, what can I take from the longest Tuesday known to this woman? That I'm not sure if it's the beginning or the middle. It's definitely not the end. But going out for real human air is actual medicine. Plus I recommend looking at super gay photos of your wife. Then getting her to pose for those photos in her future accidental matching outfit. Top. Tip.