The concept of time during a Pandemic is elusive. It’s gone the way of Mathematics in my mind. The exactness that’s required for Math doesn’t engage me. Instead of being precise, I’m more abstract; coloring outside the lines, rounding up to the nearest hour. It’s difficult to find the order of days during this time of “too much free time.”
It doesn’t bother you, Dwight. You seem to know the time instinctually. Without reading a clock, you appear at your food mat every evening at 5:30, excitedly waiting for the kibble to rattle the bowl. You find your way to your bed around 9:00 as well.
In the beginning, the Pandemic isolation felt like a snow day. A quiet time to read, reflect, eat carbs, and enjoy the solitude. But the snow day, turned into a rainy week at the beach: perfect for sleeping in, reading chunks, and gazing at raindrops rolling down window panes. But it’s been months now. I’ve baked…a lot. We’ve eaten…a lot. I’ve read…a lot. We’ve walked…a lot.
This would be the perfect time to accomplish more writing, decluttering, and cleaning. I should get more acquainted with my Instapot, but slow roasting seems more appropriate somehow. I could read my car owner’s manual and figure out how to program my radio, but I listen to Pandora through my phone, so what’s the point. My mind is still on snow day time, so I don’t want to overwhelm it. I’d rather Zoom with friends, play Words with Friends, write some letters, read every word in the newspaper, and explore the plethora of offerings my Smart TV has for me. I’ve watched documentaries on South Dakota and taken a Master Class in Tai Chi. I can distract myself with cooking classes, binge on drama series, and pull up shows I watched as a kid.
I’ve tried to order my week, to stay oriented.
Monday: laundry day
Tuesday: water plants day
Wednesday: change the sheets day
Thursday: grocery shopping day
Friday: cleaning day
You get walked at least two times a day, Dwight. I accomplish more than just my headline chores each day, but the schedule keeps me on task. I try to send a card or letter to someone daily. I drive through the outside collection boxes at the Post Office, as I understand they need the business and it gets me out of the house. Yet there seems to be a lot of hours unaccounted for in each day.
As Jim Croce sang, “If I could save time in a bottle, ” I would. I wish I could collect some of these lazy afternoons to use when the pace of “normal” returns. I hope we will hold onto the not rushing piece of our isolation.
You seem nonplussed by the Pandemic, Dwight. You enjoy your longer walks and don’t seem to notice that we are home more. I enjoy observing your Circadian Rhythms , fueled by sunbeams that you follow throughout the house. They illuminate your nap spots with warmth.
We’ve adapted well to our new normal, Dwight. We share apples while we watch TV, you keep the kitchen floor clean, and together we watch the birds at the feeder as we contemplate the wind and the world. I am grateful to have food in the fridge, friends and family on my phone, and fur at my feet. This Pandemic will sort itself out, Dwight. It’s only a matter of time.