I hope that, after weeks of social distancing and isolation, we can all agree that measuring time is just a pretend thing we do to feel some sense of control over the universe.
I mean, it was already up in the air for me before. How else do you explain the way I can simultaneously feel like an old tired woman who remembers' back in the day when' and pays bills and taxes and a 5-year old who has no idea how to prepare an actual meal and contemplates the best foods for food fights?
But now. Well. I can't actually remember how many weeks it has been since I started working from home. I have no idea what day of the week it is when I wake up in the morning. Tuesday? Friday? A month from next Thursday? No clue. I may or may not have gone to the bathroom during my 'work' day and mealtime--well, there is no such thing anymore. Without the structures we have created, time is kind of a non-thing.
Or in the beautiful prose of a friend, Lauren, "Time is now some sort of elastic quicksand that is simultaneously drowning me and not affecting me."
Yeah. It's like that.
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