11am Hm, which of my corona hobbies shall I indulge myself in today?
- thinking about writing my novel
- thinking about dyeing my hair
- thinking about doing yoga
- furiously cleaning something (anything) as if it has personally wronged me
- rewatching Killing Eve
- staring out the window while at at the table
- staring out the window while sat on the window ledge
- staring out the window while washing up
- staring at my budget spreadsheet
- staring at the ceiling
- online window shopping – adding loads of clothes to my basket but closing the tab before checkout
- day drinking
12pm Make a list of all the food in the fridge and then order it by sell-by date so we know what we should eat first.
2pm Flatmate is sat by the window, expecting a delivery. Jumps up when the van pulls up outside, and returns with coffee beans.
3pm Have seen an NYTimes article announcing a new episode of Tiger King. Thank God because my actual life is too boring for words at the moment.
9pm Text from uncle.
9:03pm There is nothing, nothing in this world I want more than to finish writing my novel. Nothing would make me feel happier or more accomplished than completing a first draft. I am a writer goddamn it, writing is my lifeblood, it comes more easily to me than BREATHING –
9:05pm But seriously though, how incredibly rude of him to suggest I actually do some writing when I haven’t even finished alphabetising the spice cupboard yet.