Hag Sunday.

The fear is real tonight.  Totally normal, being down and up and chipper and swooping into sulking happens.  Being totally overwhelmed and depressed is part of the game, and tomorrow I shall be happy bunny all again. There are real issues out there, and this lockdown is letting the gremlins seep under the doorway.Sunday night blues.  You know that feeling.

Did I really spend the entire day in a pair of gym pants? The same one’s I wore yesterday?  My mother would be so disappointed.  ‘Darling, you will always make sure you look your best.’  Remember the thing about wearing the best underwear in case you needed the doctor to make a house call … got told that all the time. Ok, so I haven’t resorted to the dodgy underwear, the kind of ‘must have the matching lingerie type of gal’ and admittedly don’t even own a pair of track suit pants, or a hoodie for that matter, so the gym pants thing is indicative of the ‘blah’ state of self-isolation.  Another day of lockdown – the hag rose from the drainpipe.

Day didn’t start that way.  Yay for the new day, motivated and at the ready for productive day complete with programme of doing things to pass the time.

Can lick the walls of this house.  Bleached to within an inch of its life, cleaned and polished – by nine am.  Only a thousand hours to go. Work on hold, email box spits up only travel news, which is nil.  Ok, a bit of exercise needed.  In the mayhem of mouse in the house and literally hurling everything on it’s head to check for any other unwanted visitors, found the turquoise coloured weights I missed so long ago.  Lifted them above my head, once, twice, over that. It’s Sunday, I’ll do some more tomorrow. Danced a little to a song so that should count. Spent some time looking for my eyebrows which we all know at this age, seems to leave my face at certain times when I must be sleeping. Sigh. Shaved my legs yesterday, so that’s another pastime not to be repeated today.  Sigh.  Instead I spent time biting my nails as I looked out of the window for a sign of life. Hello neighbour’s cat on my wall.  Can you make sure no mice coming for tea in the future?

I do believe the wearing of gym pants is indicative of me being active. Holding onto that thought.

At the time ticks away, tonight I find myself regretting the wishing away of time.  Regret wishing that I was so skinny I could eat twenty Big Macs, and not buying a treadmill before the world did. Regret a multitude of things when the only thing still working is my overactive brain. These are trying times and the brain, and heart have too much time to think about the past when the future is a little vague right now. The hag is being wistful.

Others have been in lockdown for so much longer. Others are out there doing their jobs at great risk of the virus, but playing a very important part in this chaos and perhaps I am just feeling a little useless in the midst of it all.

But, and she says but, we are all still here, and must make light of the situation – tomorrow I shall wake and greet the ants in the garden, put on a frock and contemplate how to ban the hag and bring on the powerful change.

This is me tomorrow:

Keep safe, keep sane and if the lunacy descends everyone and then, it’s fine.  You are being human.


Images: Pintrest and New York Post