[Dutch Lock Down Day One Hundred Sixty Four]
I’m freaking the fuck out.
First of all, I managed SOMEHOW to drag myself out of bed on day two. I totally fell back asleep after the alarm went off at four forty this morning. And then jerked back awake ten minutes later to get downstairs by five.
I’m calling it a win.
As I’m sleepily going through email and grumbling about this five a.m. thing, a MASSIVE spider runs across the table.
I can’t see it anymore because it’s run under the lip of the table on the other side but I know it’s there. I’m contemplating actions, next actions – my brain is giving me that scenario where future me is typing along and it crawls up my arm having made its way under the table to my side.
And THEN it pops out from under the table right across from me.
And just stops.
Looking at me.
I’m looking at it.
I get out of my chair to get a glass to take it outside.
I totally wanted to smash it or sweep it off the table. Either of those. In either order. I don’t know what I would’ve done, but it KNEW and ran back under the table.
And WARRIORS – when I looked under the table SECONDS LATER with my cell phone light that blinds people at a thousand yards?
But first the news:
- The first Dutch coronavirus case was confirmed six months ago. Where are we now?
- Budget leaks start: €500 bonus for nurses, and an income tax cut for all
- THREE MORE COVID REINFECTION CASES DISCOVERED IN NETHERLANDS: RIVM
I literally went and sat on the floor in the middle of the room with plenty of space to see a spider coming, cuddling a VERY purring cat for ten minutes.
Then I saw on a chair NEAR the table with a very purring cat for another ten minutes.
Then I tried to get her to sit on the chair next to me and she was having none of it.
Then I tried to type on my laptop with my arms stretched out as long as possible, but my back said NOPE.
And now it’s almost six and I’ve spent the entire hour accommodating that damn spider.
Also, I think the oldest minion is awake and crying. If he gets worse, he’ll wake up the whole house. But if I go in to comfort him, it’ll wake up the twins and the whole house.
I don’t have a game plan.
This is parenting.
You rearrange your life to carve out a few precious moments of private time and then a creepy spider saps it all away. Then the kids wake up early and get the rest.
But you keep trying, every day, because most days there won’t be a super creepy spider. Or a crying minion. Or an exhausted you. And you’ll get that solid ninety minutes of studying or coding or quiet contemplation that you’ve been looking forward to for the last twenty four hours.
And it makes it all worth it.
Even when you miss out today.
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