Quarantine routine: I’m frustrated
They say routines are important. Now more than ever. So, here’s mine:
9:15 a.m.: Wake up. You have a Zoom call at 9:30. Make yourself a coffee. I definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. That’s fine, I can do this.
10:21 a.m.: Math Zoom call is over. I can be productive today. Make another iced coffee. Let’s settle in and do some bio.
1:04 p.m.: Oh, I haven’t moved since 10:30. Too busy doing bio work. I’ll give myself a break, edit a web story instead.
1:28 p.m.: Shoot. You have a Zoom call at 1:30. Pull yourself together, Fehl.
1:42 p.m.: The Zoom call is over. I’m not sure if it was worth it. Maybe I’ll eat a banana now. I think food lost all flavor a while ago. Maybe it’s because I can’t remember what outside looks like. Can you believe you used to just do what you wanted?
1:58 p.m.: I was right, couldn’t even taste the banana. C’mon, Marin, just edit the web story. Okay, done. I’ll post it, Tweet about it, keep moving.
2:27 p.m.: Tampa’s curfew is rescinded. I just posted that web story. Great. Time to recalibrate.
2:33 p.m.: I should tell Humphrey that the magazine isn’t going well. Understatement of the year. Actually, it’s a nightmare. We’ll fix it. We have to fix it. Just got to keep going. Crap. I’m frustrated today.
3:01 p.m.: I have to update the curfew story. You can do this.
3:04 p.m.: I can’t do this. Yes, I can. Don’t be stupid. Maybe I’ll cry for a minute, let it all out. Today sucks. That’s fine, there’s no shortage of days. Days seem to just keep happening, I wonder when THAT started to feel this exhausting.
3:24 p.m.: I updated the story. Posted it. Fixed an Instagram caption. I should text Humphrey and let him know the story is up.
3:25 p.m.: I texted him.
3:28 p.m.: Just breathe, Fehl. You got this. Why do I keep telling myself that? This isn’t a marketing campaign for HomeGoods decor. Maybe I should just give up. I can’t do that though. Deep breaths. You’re the Editor-in-Chief. Edit the stories on Dropbox. Text the people that still need to submit them. You were editing another web story before. Finish that. Just move.
3:31 p.m.: I think it’s funny that I keep telling myself to keep moving. I can’t remember the last time I moved from in front of my laptop. God, I have such a bad headache. Just edit the story. That’s all you need to do. Keep typing. Pretend you’re a machine. Oh, look. My prom dress is hanging up in the closet just six feet away. No, don’t feel upset about that. You aren’t Kim Kardashian; you know that there are people that are dying.
3:42 p.m.: Time for my daily deep sigh. Maybe I’ll heave another one. Just one more. I can’t edit another story. Again, don’t be stupid. That’s your job. Just do your job. I don’t want to do my job. But I do. I want to do my job more than I’ve ever wanted to before. Maybe I just can’t. No, Marin, don’t spiral. Yeah, I’m really frustrated today.
4:00 p.m.: Even these are getting hard to write. Maybe I should take a break. I have some options: wash my hands, stare at the wall of a different room, walk around my yard. I just realized I’ve only eaten a banana today. Maybe I should make some lunch. No, I’ll drink some water instead. I don’t feel hungry today. I just want to scream.
4:04 p.m.: I think this is the worst day yet. It can’t be. I had one just last week. Deep breaths. Stay positive. Just keep moving. You can do this.
4:08 p.m.: Still frustrated. What’s my problem today? Maybe I can’t do this. Nope, that’s not an option. Just try. Inhale. Exhale.