9:30am Wake up. Scroll through all the Whatsapp messages from various family groups that didn’t exist before the virus with family members who I used to speak to once or twice per year but now have conversations with on a daily basis.
9:40am There’s a very particular flavour of meme that adults over the age of 50 seem to favour and let it be known that I am bored of them.
11am If you’re wondering what stage of lockdown fever I’m at – I think the man on the porridge packet is flirting with me. So there’s that.
12pm Don’t know whether I should be offended that nobody has nominated me to do this Run 5 / Nominate 5 / Donate 5 thing yet. I could just run it and then donate £5, but seems a bit desperate of me.
1pm I spoke too soon. Friend has nominated me on Instagram. Bollocks. Not sure I want to run 5k.
2pm Remember that my foot is still recovering from a stress fracture. Ah, sweet relief.
6pm Hungry, but not hungry enough for dinner. Open the cupboards and fridge. Nothing is there. Boring.
6:30pm Still hungry. Open cupboards and fridge again. Still boring because I haven’t been to the shops since I last opened the cupboards and fridge.
6:45pm Find a single sad end slice of white bread in the freezer. Toast it and cover it with peanut butter marmite. Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.
7pm New episode of Killing Eve! It is absolutely brilliant, but I haven’t finished rewatching season 2 yet so I’ve forgotten quite a few major plot points.
8:15pm Boyfriend comes into the living room, getting ready to start his night shift. Sees me curled up watching Killing Eve in his jumper and informs me, “Annie. You know that’s my COVID jumper, right? Can I please have it back?” I ask him to please stop leaving his corona-covered items round the flat for me to help myself to.
10pm Rewatched two more old episodes. Oh yeah, I forgot that bit.
11pm Had a bath because I was bored. Looking at my hair in the mirror afterwards. It really needs a trim. A trim at the hairdresser for women is insanely expensive, but it can’t be that difficult, can it? Just to trim the ends? I text my friend. She warns me against it. I go and find the nail scissors anyway.
11:30pm Ok, it’s hard to tell because my hair is still a bit wet, but I think I’ve done a very good and very subtle job of getting rid of my split ends. Guarantee that boyfriend will not notice.
2am WHY oh WHY oh WHY must the foxes choose MY WINDOW under which to shag and scream as loudly as they can EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT!?