That the solar plexus is not the belly button. Yes I am 36. Yes it's been wayyyy more than 21 days of lockdown.
I will be beginning work from office for the first time since end January, starting tomorrow. Fuck me.
My mental health is in the tank. Family friends everywhere in India have had covid. Older people have their vaccines, mostly. Many known people have passed away but many more have recovered touchwood.
I have started meditating (and the world hasn't imploded, in a manner of speaking on the other hand...) using headspace whose clever marketing ploy included two series on meditation and winding down for sleep on Netflix.
I have read naught but Drarry slash since March. Some of it is excellent. Some of it is enjoyable trash. Some if it execrable.
Another one of my cats seems to have a chronic condition now, and like when Marm was first diagnosed with CKD, I'm unable to come to terms with it.
And the usual: my back hurts, I compulsively eat, I'm too anxious to watch new films/series, I've put on weight, I don't sleep well, Kalonji still attacking Kaju, I'm compulsively rewatching Kim's Convenience, WILTY, Bridget Jones and Notting Hill to seek comfort.
Mood: slightly flue-ey with a generous heaping of headache and procrastination