Week 3, Day 18: Show Me Your Habits and I’ll Show You Mine.

Watching smashy-crashy scenes in films, my brain tends to shut down. A response to sensory over-stimulation maybe, or cos there’s nothing in there I can relate to. But I’ll be riveted by a take of a protagonist opening a box of cereal if it reveals them to me. I’m fascinated by mundane habits: not instagrammed lunches or facebook-displays of winning at life, but the moment to moment actions that get us through the day.

Did you sleep last night? What time did you wake up today? Did you get up straight away or did you lie there? What or who did you reach for first? Did you have breakfast? What was it? Did you shower and dress? How did you decide what to wear? Did you go out? Who did you call? What were you grateful for today? What scared you?

I’m asking because now more than ever, without the guideposts of work, education and socialising, we really are making it up as we go along. And I wonder if people used to stability, routine and comfort might be floundering without the tools that those of us used to financial and/or emotional struggle have developed out of necessity.

Anyway, for the record, here are the micro-details of my morning today:

Sefi wakes us at 8.00; I’ve slept right through the night, yay, though possibly due to the co-codymol I took last thing for neck pain adding extra drowsiness to my regular meds. I go down, take my Citalopram and iron and unlock the cat-flap. I go back and forth between kitchen, lounge and bathroom to refill Sefi’s three bowls of water. I open a tin of chicken and decant into Sefi’s tub for spooning out throughout the day. (As a typical bengal, her tummy is too sensitive to eat all at once.)

ML joins me downstairs for ‘first breakfast’ – toast and a cup of black coffee (for me, ML can’t drink caffeine) before morning exercise. ML does a brief Canadian Airforce Workout from a 1950’s book and then the 9.00am National Singalong comes onto BBC Radio: it starts with Wonderwall which we sing at volume, and ends with Boom Shack-A-Lack, which is ecstatic fodder for kitchen-dancing in your pajamas.

Back into the lounge for Yoga with Adriene which really helps my neck. But then I’m floored by unreasonable fatigue and lie on the sofa for 30 minutes. After, I eat a bowl of granola and drive myself into the shower and up to the attic to write because that’s what I’d wanted; but I should probably have rested (If not now, then when?) because I can’t kick the tiredness and when I force myself through, it’s not my best work.

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