As I would imagine happened to a lot of people, I was furloughed the last week of March. So I haven’t worked in almost a month. I found out today that it will be an additional two weeks, so at least six weeks of not working.
It’s so weird.
I’ve been working for more than thirty years. This is…even when I had my kid, I was out for only six weeks. And I was super busy that whole time, recovering and taking care of the baby. Not going to work for weeks on end? Not having vitally important stuff I need to do right now for days on end?
It’s so weird.
But it turns out, I’m the weird one. I like it. Turns out, I am just as much of a happy hermit as I always thought I would be. The reasons for my hermiting suck, don’t get me wrong. I am quite cognizant that others are suffering, and I look for ways to help. But me?
I’m home. All the time. And I love it.
You’ll be astonished to learn I’m writing a book, I’m sure. I’ve been doing write-ins two to three times a day, where I and a varying number of friends gather in a text chat and sprint for ten minutes at a time. I write from one thousand to five thousand words a day most days. It’s a ton of fun. And my book is nearly 40,000 words!
Naturally, one of the first things I did on being furloughed three weeks ago was to make a list of all the stuff around the house I’d been meaning to get to. Most of those things are still on that to-do list, alas. I did start some seeds, and I’m now looking to have a number of zucchini! (I planted four seeds in case a few of them didn’t come up. They all came up, so I will probably turn green from all the zucchini I’m eating later this summer.)
Maybe it’s a sad commentary on my life, how I’m perfectly content to just stay home. I do know I’m lucky that it happened at this point in my life. If all this had happened a few years ago, when it was me and the 16yo and the roomie, with 16yo and roomie sharing a small bedroom and all of us sharing a tiny apartment with no private yard and not even our own carport…
Yeah, that would have been bad. And we probably would have found out if “six weeks locked down!” would get the roomie off a murder rap…
Now, though? Not only do we each have our own room, the teenager we’re sheltering with isn’t my kid (she’s safe elsewhere) so things are a lot calmer than they would be otherwise. (Don’t start. I love my kid. But we clash. Oh holy moly do we clash!)
I’ve got enough back yard to wander a wee bit. I live in a neighborhood where there are parks easily walked to, that are empty. (It’s social distancing if nobody’s around, y’all. And I take a mask, on my face but maybe not on both ears, so if I do meet anyone, I’m ready.)
Ahem.
Roomie and I have long been planning to find and buy a house somewhere with less people, less heat, and a lower cost of living. This stay-at-home thing has shown us that one thing we were worried about–would we feel isolated if we hermited as hard as we think we want to?–is not a worry at all.
As long as we have decent internet, anyway. That’s like…requirement number one, after a snug home with room for our books and some container gardening (and the aforementioned lacks of neighbors, excessive heat, and high cost of living.)
Oh, and a good oven. Roomie has raised a sourdough starter to excellent results, and also I just got a Kitchen Aid mixer that I’ve wanted all my life just about. And there will be all that zucchini…
So yeah. We’ll need a decent kitchen too. And we’ll be good.
Best wishes, friends. Stay safe. <3