Remember March? I sorted through closets, cleaned out the tupperware drawer. We had family game night, I made a “Quarantine Bingo” chart on a piece of posterboard. I made complicated, multi-step recipes. I folded in the cheese. It was Blizzard Mentality, and we were hunkered down, ready for movie nights and books by the fire. We went for long walks and talked about how nice it was to have a little break. I took the elastic out of a fitted sheet from the donate pile, and I cut out patterns to make masks.
It’s now the start of Week 11. In the previous 10 weeks, I’ve made exactly one mask - and if I had attempted to donate it, the healthcare workers would probably have me committed. It appears to have been made by a well-intentioned scout trying for their sewing badge. It took me about 3 hours of hand-stitching (I do not have a sewing machine and all signs point to me never being the kind of person that ever will).
Now that I think about it, those three hours of sewing probably kept me from mindlessly carb-loading so maybe I should make more?
I miss Week One Me, with her eager motivation and willingness to organize the chaos of closets and junk drawers, her folding the corners of pages in cookbooks and making lists of things to get done. She was sharpening the pencils for her children and engaged in their schoolwork and online activities. She was doing 15 minute workout videos in the basement. She was going to bed at a reasonable hour. She was drinking enough water.
Turns out there is no organizing chaos. The chaos seeps in to the most organized of junk drawers and lifestyles - and so it’s back to my normal default position: embracing the chaos, and moving forward, one step at a time, into Week 11.