A friend sent me a competition he thought I’d be interested in. A radio show wanted people to share what five day logs from their quarantine diary would look like. I don’t listen to the radio; my only form of entertainment is Russia Today but I entered anyway.
I didn’t win. Neither did I come close. You can compare it to the finalists if you want, but this is the final resting place of my attempt.
Day 1: Practiced my cough a few times before calling the Boss. “Hello hello…I can’t make it in today. I’m not well…” He reckons the entire country is on lockdown, and I missed all my deadlines. Called my girlfriend to ask what lockdown he’s talking about and she reminded me about the restraining order. Guess no shower today; country is on lockdown.
Day 2: Woke up screaming. As is routine. A growl from my stomach? Hunger? No, that’s the wardrobe; something lives in there. Found half a vienna in the back of the fridge. That Listeriosis thing is over, right?
Day 3: Fast and the Furious marathon on TV. I know Hollywood isn’t a meritocracy because Vin Diesel is famous. I heard garlic is good for you so that was my lunch. Garlic served rare with a side of Caucasian bread. Someone once told me garlic is an aphrodisiac. The French eat a ton of it and isn’t the symbol of their entire country a giant phallic thing? Makes sense. There is an itch in my lockdown trousers.
Day 4: Where is the lady that makes clean clothes? I think she’s the one. She arrives without disturbing me and leaves by 3. You don’t know what you got until its gone. I hope her husband treats her right. The half vienna took revenge for its’ neglect. Fortunately, I’m the John Wick of fighting diarrhoea.
Day 5: Got up early. Fed two ants some artificial sweetener and now they’re arguing about climate change. I really want to talk to the neighbours I’ve ignored for seven years. I shout “Mummy! Mummy!” at a sink full of dishes. It’s my birthday.