Day which?

This strange new routine, set up by no one but myself, has my internal clock messed up. I can, should I so desire, stay up until One AM listening to a good book. The Virginian and Cumberbatch reading Sherlock Holmes are my latest guilty pleasures. No need to be at work, ready to go in the morning.

There is a pile of clothes in the corner. Dirty jeans, yesterday and the day before’s sweater. Clean shirt, underwear and socks my daily fare. I am not a jammies/sweats person.

Morning shower has gone back to the twice weekly bath or shower of my childhood.

I am here to hear the birds sing. To know that spring is coming because of the constant, song of the Phoebe, who keeps calling, and calling, and calling…..

The grass has a green tinge, though not enough growth for the horses to nibble. What is taking so long for the trees to bud, the flowers to bloom? Hold Hard! it is not yet April! April showers bring MAY flowers. March did come in like a lion. Thank you Covid-19. It does not seem to want to leave like a lamb. Perhaps because I am home, and here to see the anticipated spring dragging its heels, I expect the grey brown of winter to be magically gone. My internal clock needs to be reset. Or is the problem with my internal calendar?

So, it is OK to miss your children, grand children, parents. Better to stay isolated. Pay attention people. And, wash those dried out hands. Moisturize.