I think (and if I were speaking my cadence would get real slow right now…) one of the most difficult adjustments as part and parcel of this pandemic is me.
I am simply not accustomed to this much alone time. It’s ok, as in, I can do it. But sometimes it fucking sucks.
If I cook, or clean, there’s nobody who’s going to care but me. Same if I choose to not cook or clean.
On the one hand, that’s kinda nice; in a cut myself some slack sorta way. But then again, it gets old. Really fast.
I suppose that’s because I’m not out to entertain/impress/interact with myself. Nope. It’s the difference between masturbation and making love. Quite likely the same outcome. But…that which is shared is just so much better. More memorable, more meaningful, more multidimensional.
We humans are social animals. And this pandemic is messing with that big time.
Once again, I can do this. But damn–I look forward to the day when we can once again just fall into one another’s arms. It’s going to be a hug for the ages.