COVID-19 Journal *Entry 36*

I worked from home today. I didn’t work at home yesterday as it was my flex day. I am making fun of myself for remembering to not work on my flex day this week, as there was one recent flex day that I did work, despite there being at least three clues to tip me off. I noticed eventually what day it was, but it was in the mid-afternoon, so there was really no point in stopping. To be fair, it was the very first day after my sick leave, and that was the day after Labor Day Monday, which was confusing, as my flex day for that week was on the Tuesday in loo. I was just excited to get back into my routine.

Yes. “In loo.” That’s how I spell it. It’s funny.

My routine includes some exercise again, now that I can do some. This is both a relief and a nuisance, since I would rather not do any exercise. My default is “lazy” and I got into the habit of physical fitness through practice and personal nagging. I also got into the habit by investing much money and commitment into dance classes, which I am not participating in this year. In usual times, dance class provides regular dates and times for physical movement, in addition to the progressive advancement through the year that means it’s better to not miss any pre-arranged classes for fear of missing out on fun technique, chunks of choreography, or prime placement in a dance routine.

Do I miss dance class? A bit. Do I miss exercise? No. Do I have to remember to do some exercise anyway? Yes. And this week I have. It was only last week that I could do anything for a sustained amount of time after being sick, so that felt good, but the novelty has already worn off! I tried leaving my yoga mat out on my living room floor so I might be encouraged to plop down and do some stretching, but it just got leaves all over it (I don’t know where the leaves came from, or why they were all over my yoga mat. There were no leaves anywhere else). All I wanted to do all weekend was watch West Wing and colour in my colouring book.

Ooooh I also wanted to eat. I had some minty chocolate chip ice cream, and also big bowls of food all weekend. I have to stop eating so much. Not just because I’m plumping up from eating a lot and not moving, but also because I keep eating way too much at a meal and then feeling bleh afterwards. Smaller portions! For now. I tried this today and I feel better.

One of my favourite words is “plump.” I named a doll Plump when I was little, which I find hilarious now, but at the time I thought it was the most beautiful name. I was four. Four-ish. Or three. However old and three-quarters because I got plump for Christmas. She has short, super straight blond hair and blinky-eyes.

I also like the word “loo.” It can also be spelled “Lieu” but that’s for fancy people who maybe don’t want it to seem like they are referencing a bathroom. It sounds the same, fancy people!

COVID 19 Journal Entry 27

It’s been a while since I’ve kept a regular journal like this. I was looking back in my archive the other day (looking for evidence of the last time I read Mrs. Dalloway – there was none) and I was reminded that I used to practice my journal writing on a far more regular basis than I do now. It wasn’t daily, but it was frequent. It reads like I was writing for an audience of me – my voice and sass is clear. I still try to intill my entries with these, but I also try to make them intelligible to other readers – maybe not so many inside jokes – that is, jokes that are only jokes inside of my own head.

Writing a regular journal of my daily life is different than writing a journal when I’m travelling. With travel journaling I can fall back on just expanding my daily itinerary if I can’t think of anything else. Or just describe the scene around me. Everything is interesting when I’m on adventure.

At the beginning of COVID, when we had all just gone into lockdown, we were all on an adventure. Lots of new experiences to reflect upon. Now as I settle into the new normal, it’s less an adventure (ok, “adventure”) and more routine – and routine was what I didn’t want to be writing about when I stopped journaling. Routine isn’t interesting. I’d be writing the same thing everyday. Ironic maybe that I have even less to write about now that I’m at home most of the time, and yet here I am still writing about it (with, admittedly, some breaks). It’s like phone calls with my mum. We decided to up our weekly phone calls to twice a week, and we make fun of how we shouldn’t have anything to talk about since we aren’t doing anything. But one weekly one-hour call has turned into 2 two-hour calls per week. We still manage to find things to talk about.

Since I’m writing more regularly now, I’ve remembered some habits I should be following. I don’t know if I’m just older now and forgetful, or if i’m just way out of practice, but a really god habit I need to reintroduce is to write down any idea that comes to me right away. I keep thinking of really good ideas and then forgetting them, but not forgetting that I had an idea, just what it was. Then I get that hollow weird brain feeling where I know I’m missing something but can’t remember what.

I did this last week during lunch break during one of my office days. I was walking back along Cook Street after buying ice cream and had the greatest idea for a journal entry.

“This would make a good journal entry,” I thought to myself, and started composing. But then I was distracted by walk signals, and navigating around people on the sidewalk. I was even distracted by my organizing the rest of my work day – should I write said journal entry during my break later or save it for after work?

By the time I was back at the office, and stored my ice cream in the freezer, the idea was gone. I was back at my desk for a while before I remembered that I’d had an idea. But what was it? Nope. Gone.

I never do this, but I totally retraced my thoughts back to try and retrieve it. It was just that good of an idea. I had it before I approached the intersection with Pandora Street. Then I passed the man with the beard, turned my head away from him because the sidewalk was narrow and there was traffic. I crossed Pandora even though the light was flashing don’t walk, but I made it ok, and it’s a one-way street so no one was turning right. Then just a short wait for the next light to turn – I stared over a the bus stop and that’s when I decided I had a good idea for a journal entry. When I crossed Cook Street, a truck had to wait while I crossed – if I hadn’t crossed at the last minute across Pandora he wouldn’t have had to wait. There was fencing up around the grass along the parkway along Pandora. Was this where people had been camping at the start of lockdown? I hadn’t been over here to see. Then passing another pedestrian, but the sidewalk got wider along side the new condo building. There’s a new daycare on the lower level of that – I think that’s the one I read about because the residents of the condo are annoyed that the daycare kids can use their outdoor common area upstairs. Should I work of my journal now when I get back? I might have five minutes left of my lunch break. Or I could use my 15 minutes now instead of later…

I think by that point I had stopped thinking about the idea and then lost it. And I still had that feeling of a vacancy in my memory. (That’s a better way of expressing a “hole in my head” isn’t it?) I replayed my steps a few times. Was I thinking about it before my approach to Pandora? What was I thinking as I left the ice cream store? As I rounded the corner back on to Cook? When had I started thinking about it?

And the *POP* there it was. My fully formed idea. I typed it into the notes on my phone with an exclamation mark! I plan to write about it soon.