A quiet day here. I lost all sense of rhythm to the day early and never got it back. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just a thing. I didn’t go for a walk. I didn’t do any work. I didn’t cook any dinner. I did very little except eat curry, watch television and muck around on social media.
Jason and I did go to see mum and dad earlier in the day. There were technical issues with their telly and the computers which needed resolving and which we have been meaning to get around to for weeks, but with one isolation and another, have only just managed to fit it in. It’s bad enough being in a dismal, winter lockdown but when you can’t watch Bargain Hunt, what is the world coming to?
I forgot to tell you that I lost a contact lens yesterday. I had put the dinner on and sat down for a moment to rest while it was cooking. I may have slightly fallen asleep and it wasn’t until I woke up and had checked on the potatoes in the oven that I realised that I only had one contact lens in.
It was a very tense twenty minutes of grovelling around on my hands and knees and enlisting the entire family to help, but not like that, whilst being careful where they were standing/sitting/breathing before I found it. Which is quite amazing because it was in the hall, which means it must have fallen out of my eye and then bounced. And I was the one to find it. Me. Me with only one functional eye. I didn’t dare go and put my glasses on, because that could have potentially meant moving it even further afield, so I did a lot of squinting and shuffling, but thankfully I am back to the full complement of eyes now.
I swapped Grey’s Anatomy for Strictly today. I’m still firmly team Bill although I’m loving Giovanni and Ranvir, too. My main takeaway from this week is that Shirley probably needs more sex in her actual, real life. I thought she might actually orgasm on live telly during the Argentine tango. Bruce Forsyth would never have done that.