It has been over a week since BoJo announced lockdown on our society, and waking up last Tuesday will always be one of the surreal memories I will take with me on my life’s journey. In our household we have had a variety of experiences, events and emotions, some of which I will cherish forever, other I’d like to stuff, together with the bloody virus, where the sun don’t shine.
From social media and phone calls with family and friends I know we all have a variety of days that resemble the good, the bad, the crazy and the downright hideous. Throw in some school aged kids, some toddlers and adults trying to work from home, and you have the recipe for an interesting concoction of life. As a perfectionist and slightly neurotic overthinker this situation is a blessing and curse at the same time. It’s a blessing because I can live my ultimate dream of working from home, watching my kids grow up and having enough time to write and keep control over the house and everyone’s life in it (in a nice way, I am not a bloody dictator!). It’s a curse because, I mean, have you ever tried to work from home, keeping tabs on over 100 students whilst home-schooling a 5 year-old, whilst preventing (or trying to prevent) a 2 year-old from sabotaging any attempt of working and home-schooling whilst also wading through the chaos of discarded toys, unwashed dishes and clothes, half-eaten snacks and knocked over drinks? You think I am kidding? I kid you not my friend, I don’t. Ciara would hang her head in shame if she saw the devastation a week of lockdown and isolation can cause, fabricated by the fair hands of two little children (and two bamboozled adults).
In addition to that, in a twisted fate of our privilege to stay at home, I am losing track of the days of the week (and believe you me, it IS a privilege: We have shelter, food, Internet, entertainment, fresh air and transport. Millions of others in this pandemic don’t.) Lately, I have been thinking of one of my favourite films, Groundhog Day and how, slowly but surely, days have started resembling our own version of the comedy, scarily blending into one big chaotic mess of colouring pens, cuttings, worksheets, craft supplies, bent puzzle pieces (the destructive toddler is at work again), five o’clock glasses of wine and recorded episodes of Paw Patrol (the most annoying programme on earth if you want my opinion on this, too). If it wasn’t for the puppy shitting into various places of the kitchen floor, I would start believing that I am reliving the same day over and over again. I very much doubt that I will resort to the extremes Bill Murray’s character needed to use to get through his new state of life, and I know that it is up to me to shape and form life during this bastard of a virus. Groundhog or not, there is a lot I will take from this; maybe I won’t be able to play the piano like a pro but I will try and search for the novelty in everyday life and to live in the now a bit more. If not for me, then for all those souls that haven’t got the opportunities I have.