It’s a little bit funny. This feeling inside. Even if it was one that I wanted to hide.
*Engage understatement mode*.
Last time lockdown was not good for me.
And here comes neither the hot stepper, nor the lyrical gangster, but a second lockdown. And this time it’s just me. OK, I’m allowed a bubble, which realistically has to be me and my folks. Other than that, I am allowed to see one other person outside to exercise with. In the meantime, it will be me, myself, and I, living and working from home. An unholy trinity.
I’m just not sure I’ll make it; I’m not even sure I want to. But let’s be honest. It’s late, I’ve been out, there’s been soon to be missed company, plenty of white wine, followed by time at home with Game of Thrones and inside my head. This is quite probably not the time for deep thoughts and decisions. To paraphrase Winston Churchill since, though I may be lost, I remain educated…dear life, you may be ugly, but tomorrow I shall be sober and you will still be ugly. However by then I may be better able to cope with the emotions and worries and consequences that you are in the process of throwing at me.
Did I mention it can always get worse?