Tales of the blockade runner
Lockdown, day… five hundred and ninety something. So far I have avoided comparing myself to Anne frank and Nelson Mandela. Even though I desperately want to. I don’t know how they self isolated for so long without staff. It must have been tough.
Our nanny came back today. It was the best day ever. I wanted to hug her. (Obviously I didn’t because I don’t want to go to jail and have the structural integrity of my sphincter tested by my roommates) so I just wiped away a tear on the sleeve of my hoodie and blamed my allergies.
It’s only been a month and a half. But in child rearing years… that’s more than dog years in case you’re wondering… it’s been forever.
Clearly we are shit parents because we have been struggling. I don’t think I’ve booted up my PlayStation once in all this time…
My grandparents lived through two world wars. When my kids are older I’ll tell them about the time we couldn’t order Ubereats for a month… and how terribly inconvenient it all was. The horror of these times have been burned into the squishy gray stuff of my mind by some metaphorical cowboy with a branding iron. (Without the foreplay of being tied down first).
Just to be clear, our nanny desperately wanted to come back even though we’ve been paying her to stay at home, we are also picking her up and dropping her off so she doesn’t have to use public transport. This is because we are good people (ha ha ha ha) and our selfish motives want to mitigate the risks to eh… ourselves.
And yes, we are rolling the corona dice. And yes, she is, under our current… interpretation of our insane lockdown dogma, allowed to come back to work. Unlike our gardener who still finds himself on the persona non grata list. (I have this recurring nightmare where I might have to mow our lawn)
My ability to endure hardship is… apparently quite low. It’s also getting colder… this morning it dropped down to 8C! (46F) which means I had to crack open the winter clothes cupboard and haul out the north face gear. Brrrrrr. Have to wear slippers in the house now… so my toes don’t blacken and slough off. Can life get any harder?
I will admit to one act of defiance/criminality. Yesterday we got take away coffee. It’s another one of those gray areas at the moment. As far as I understand food and by association beverages should be delivery only. We collected ours! For the briefest of moments I was Han Solo running the imperial blockade…. eh before I had some internal conflict if maybe I really wanted to be Captain Malcolm Reynolds instead. At the moment this whole libertarian spirit animal issue is still unresolved. The coffee however was amazing. Totally worth the risk. Unless of course I get sick and die in which case ignore everything I’ve just said.