Confessions no.3

I seem to struggle with Wednesdays more than any other day. It is not as if it comes in the middle of an arduous week and there is a weekend approaching that I am desperate for. But every Wednesday so far since lockdown began I have found it particularly difficult to motivate myself.

I succumb to sleepiness and nap in the afternoon. I fill up on cheese and chocolate like I am deficient in dairy (not possible). I watch TV because I cannot stimulate my brain to activity (the Tiger King show is insane). Today I made scones.

Why Wednesdays?

In a normal working week Wednesdays are good because you know you are half way through, almost due a Saturday morning lie in.

Is it that there is nothing to look forward to that makes Wednesdays now a days so hard to handle? A midway marker in a week of doing nothing, seeing no one, going nowhere. No prospect of the pub on a Friday night or a Saturday drive to nowhere in particular with a nice lunch and a walk of the dog. No random, heart warming social interaction with strangers. No catching up with friends.

Not really true, I have been catching up with more friends than usual, video chatting up and down the country. Are we going to have to get used to this virtual kind of lifestyle? They say the lockdown could be extended, that we may have to adhere to social distancing measures for months, maybe years to come.

Is it drinking alone and shouting at a stuttering computer screen from now on? And what if the internet fails, what then? The dog, though he may have some interesting views on modernist literature, is not always the liveliest of conversationalists. And he doesn’t always approve of my after-three-glasses-of-wine dancing around the kitchen table.

I never thought I would crave the structure of routine. Monday to Friday with a weekend in between may be repetitive but at least there is variation, breaks and markers to map out the passing of time. There are schedules, deadlines, events, journeys and happenings. This Wednesday to Wednesday with endless Sunday afternoons is monotonous in an unhinged, directionless, disorientating kind of way.

A part of me wants it to end. The rest of me wonders if I will ever be able to snap out of it.

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