I mean that both as “Whew! It’s been a month!” and “holy crap, it’s been a month?!” Gentle Reader, a month ago today, I came back from the UK not knowing what to expect. It’s been a month of social isolation: two weeks of quarantine, ordering groceries online, getting a face mask, relying on my OCD stockpile of antibacterial gel and hand soap (I didn’t get the cleaning version of OCD but I did get the handwashing version).
So I’ve had a month to adjust to the New Normal. I’m lucky. I know how to work from home already, because as an academic, I do it often. My husband and I both have our separate workspaces, so we aren’t getting on top of each other.
But sabbatical feels pointless and useless, as does my research. I’m trying to remember that I LOVE my work, and that will help me personally through this crisis.
I’m doing what I can to help others. Buying things locally, tipping well, giving blood, recommending local vendors. I’m doing what I can to make sure I’m well. Taking my temp every day, eating good food, trying to clean. But little bits poke through, like my depression pile of clean laundry, which has landslided all over my side of the bedroom. Like the pile of dirty dishes. Like the overfull freezer and fridge.
Also, I killed my sourdough starter and I’m very sad about that.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 