That sameness of days, sunshine the thoughtless tease of an endless summer dream.
Every day is the same, but nothing will ever be the same.
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Quarantine. Lockdown. Shelter-in-Place. Re-entry. Curfew. Scurrying around the pandemic hamster wheel for so long we’re not sure how to act when the cage door opens.
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The world beyond the house: That hour when I meet a friend in a restaurant and the world is almost real again. And then I return to the confines of home. Where nothing ever changes, as if I had never left.
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Living the pandemic is like watching Gilligan’s Island reruns. Every day the same. Gather coconuts. Get on the bike and generate energy. Bicker with your fellows. Ward off the cannibals.
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Evening walk, 7:45 pm. Silent. Streetlights flickering. The soft patter of my flipflops on the sidewalk. The feeling of someone behind me.
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From my daily journal, 5/4/20: March was a lifetime ago.
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“I don’t have many years left, my husband says.” I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life in the living room.”
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Evening walk, 7:45 pm The elderly man I wave to every night as he walks around the block? He finally waved back. Pink Bermuda shorts.
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The tireless drone of the TV like some cheesy soundtrack from a bad movie. Bad news and the falsity of pharmaceutical ads.
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Lockdown: At first it was intriguing. Now it feels overdone. Burnt. A cake baking too long in the oven.
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Article in news feed: “Boredom can be caused by a number of factors, but the most common is being stuck in a repetitive or monotonous experience.”
Me: No shit.
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When you realize you’re so bored even all those weird books your dad sends every Christmas, languishing on the dusty bookshelf, start to look good.
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