As a self-professed introvert, I have to confess a satisfaction at being forced to stay inside, to bake cookies, to read endless books, to watch endless shows such as NCIS & Hallmark Murder Mysteries & movies that I missed in the theater. Some things are not so fun; wondering when and if it will end, worrying about things we didn’t worry about before (no masks available, toilet paper hoarding, many more meals at home instead of eaten out, worry about young people, old people too).
As a writer, I should revel in the extra time but it seems to be eaten up with “little things” (more house-cleaning, more dishes, more time taken to find groceries, extra care taken to get to doctor appointments).
The worst thing though is the thought that I might be wasting this precious time that has caused us all to slow down our frenetic lifestyles. Am I using it to my advantage, or am I frittering it away on old television shows, on books that might not be teaching me anything?
Food for thought. I’m going to make popcorn now.
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