So much for limiting contact

I’ve been doing as much as I can electronically to minimize leaving the house during shut down.

Worried about the arty eldest’s scoliosis during home schooling, I ordered a tilting desk and drafting chair online from Fantastic Furniture over the weekend.

It didn’t go according to plan.

Despite being at home 24/7 these days, and sticking a note on the front door to that effect, the chair was “home” delivered directly to the local post office yesterday.

And the desk remains AWOL.

Hmmmm.

When I got the message that my delivery was waiting at the post office I was miffed. It didn’t seem to be very COVID-19 aware of Australia Post.

But I got in the car and joined the throngs at the shops.

The woman at the post office wasn’t happy about all the packages that had been foisted on her either. We had a mutual grumble and eye roll about it.

She also assured me there wasn’t a desk delivery hiding for me in the store. No mention had been made in the numerous emails that I’d received from Fantastic Furniture about it being a split delivery.

But hey, these are unprecedented times we are living in. So I dutifully emailed to ask where my desk had gone. I’m still waiting for an answer.

I also survived two work video conference calls yesterday, with my computer screen carefully angled to cut out as much of the shambolic mess in my back room as possible. Sadly there is no careful angle for my shambolic face.

During my lunch break, I watched a press conference where a young female journalist repeatedly asked if it was OK for couples who don’t live together to visit each other. Health Minister Greg Hunt kept dodging a proper answer, I expect because he doesn’t know what to say. It’s a grey area. I reckon the young female journalist in question is in love with someone who lives separately to her. I feel her anxiety.

Although, if Australia Post is happy for me to leave the house fraternise unnecessarily with its staff, I don’t see why DD should be off my menu.

But who knows what further restrictions the future holds.

It’s April 1 today. The 8000 days of March are over and the 8000 days of April begin.

I’m feeling like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, as I wake to the monotony of another day. At the same time I know how lucky I am to still have a job, and one that allows me to work safely from home.

I look at the tent hospitals being set up in New York’s Central Park and feel slightly dizzy about the way the world has so sharply turned.

Fingers crossed Australia can keep flattening the curve.

Song of the day: Fatboy Slim “Eat, sleep, rave, repeat”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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