Corona Journal, 27 April: Day 43

9:10am Woken up by a sudden flurry of stamping upstairs, then quiet. Then another flurry of stamping. Then quiet.

9:15am I think our upstairs neighbours are doing Joe Wicks.

10am Sat writing Corona Journal (this is meta, isn’t it?). It’s getting harder to remember what I did the day before; my days used to be split up into pockets of time – wake up late, rush to get ready, 45 minutes of reading on the tube, 4 hours of work, one hour lunch break to read/write/run, another 3 hours of work, read on the tube, hang out with friends, read on the tube, bed, repeat – now there’s just one long yawn of emptiness with nothing to break it up.

11am Having said that, I am armed with goals and a to-do list today. Time to get my productive on.

11:15am Get this notification from my FitBit. Are they making fun of me for taking so many naps…?

11:30am Feeling sleepy. Consider having an actual caffeinated coffee. Decide against it because I don’t want the heart palpitations and feelings of impending doom. I mean, I have feelings of impending doom anyway, but I don’t want the heart palpitations to go with it. Have a big glass of water instead. Is this what enlightenment is…?

12pm Editing a novel using the old POMODORO method, except that instead of 25 minutes of work and 5 minutes of break, I do 25 minutes of work and 25 minutes of fannying about.

2pm Lunch. Most of the salad I bought the other day has gone all wet and limp because I didn’t eat it in time. Manage to salvage some of it, though. But only some.

2:30pm My little runt of a tomato seedling has perked up! I’m telling him that I’m proud of him when my flatmate looks at me weirdly and asks, not why I’m talking to a plant, but why I’m needlessly gendering my tomatoes. He’s not wrong.

4pm ASOS order arrives and NONE of the seven summer dresses I bought actually fit. Anyone who thinks having big boobs is an advantage is SO WRONG, it’s nigh-on impossible to find things that fit your waist and your bust. Repackage all of it in a sulk.

5pm Go for a run on my mangy old foot. It’s doesn’t hurt! It’s fun! I am in such a good mood as I jog through the park listening to this on repeat. Roll my ankle on the way home (on the other foot) which leaves quite a nasty bruise but other than that… all good!

6pm Back home, planning lessons. Yawn.

8pm Order pizza with boyfriend and flatmate. Balance.