Sunday, April 5

It’s been more than three weeks now, and I’m starting to slow down. I do not do things slowly. I talk fast. Walk fast. Multitask. Think about the thing I’m going to do next while I’m doing the thing I’m doing now. I thought, before we were all staying at home and our calendars were wiped clear, that this behavior was due to how busy I am. A full-time job, three kids, volunteer work. Family, friends, exercise. Reading, shopping, cooking, occasionally cleaning. There was always something else to do. There was never enough time to do it. I am good at prioritizing. I am good at living in a messy house. I am good at planning ahead so that I’m ready for the band concert, open house night, basketball tryouts, board meeting, committee call, work deadline. And I move fast in preparation for all of these things.

Now, I’m realizing that as I have much less to anticipate and plan for, I still have felt that there isn’t enough time. The days go by and the house is still a mess. I haven’t finished the laundry. There are so many projects to do and I feel I’m not making progress fast enough. I’m working during the week and most days I’m getting out for a long walk. And I’m cooking dinner every night, and we are all here to eat it. There’s no carpool and I don’t have to pick anyone up at 7:30, 8:30, later. But the days go by and I still feel kind of rushed inside. Buzzing. Slightly anxious about the other things I should be doing.

Yesterday, I felt a shift. Yesterday, while we were rearranging a room to make a space for me to work, we had time to do a really good job. There was no rush. We had all day. Uninterrupted. We cleaned as we went, and today, I continued that work. I realized, at the end of the day today that I have been concentrating this weekend on exactly what I have been doing in the moment. I took a break midday to watch Kids Baking Championship with my daughter. I decided after we all ate lunch at 3:00 that dinner would be grab and growl. And at 7 p.m. we all warmed up leftovers, snacked on Goldfish crackers, made sandwiches. We are fed, and I had the night off from cooking dinner. I didn’t do anything instead. We ate together and we watched an episode of Designated Survivor. I didn’t even fold the laundry while I was watching.

This feels like messy writing, but I am here doing it. And I am doing nothing else (except listening to “calm rolling thunder” to drown out the sound of the TV in the other room). After I finish I will click publish, close the computer and open my Kindle, looking for a book to read among the many there that I downloaded from the library yesterday.

Tomorrow is Monday, a work day for me, and I will have to get up before 8 a.m. I hope, that as the work day gets busy, I can hold on to this place of one thing at a time. It’s all any of us should ever do. It’s all we can do well. And along with a house that for perhaps the first time ever will benefit from real spring cleaning, maybe I will come out of this time at home with a slightly slowed down approach to the busy life that I hope resumes.

Today I read some of The New York Times Magazine and Book Review, as I do on many Sundays. I cooked two breakfasts (one for the parents and one for the kids). I didn’t read a lot of news, though I glanced at a few stories. The British prime minister was hospitalized. He tested positive for Covid-19. The coach of a local high school basketball team — a team my son’s team played against not too long ago — died, though there was no cause of death released. Every death is presumed to be related to the virus. Our days are framed in death tolls. That someone might die of renal failure, or old age, or injuries from an accident is an anomaly these days.

Right now:

• More than 330,000 cases in the U.S.

• Nearly 10,000 deaths in the U.S.

• Many news stories report what we already know: These numbers are not accurate. Both numbers are bigger.

Also right now: Bedtime.

Stay safe, everyone.