The Farm Manager has been locked down since the third week in March. My personal internment started five weeks earlier, when I had my emergency retina re-attachment. We are bored exponentially beyond shitless.
Not that the "lockdown" is all that strenuous around here. Walmart never closed, nor did the grocery stores or the gas stations. But still, you pay a guilt tithe when you're out and about, so you're inclined to stay put.
At some point you hit a place (Nirvana?) where you have to check online what the day of the week or the date is. Last night we were having reflective moment number twelve on the day, and, looking out at the yard, I said, "well, at least I got the lawn cut today."
"That was yesterday."
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