Technically, Hens Are Key Workers - Self Isolation, Day 4

Day 4 of my own little lockdown. I have decided that this is bullshit. My brain simultaneously worries about every possibility and chastises me for being a pathetic little pussy. Working from home isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Turns out you have to work. My default for being at home is doing nothing at all, but as I’m now always at home I need to remember to do things. I now have the ability to stream my gaming sessions to the world, so at least I can take others down with me. Trying to lessen my contact with news sites, because the news is that everything’s dreadful and we don’t know what’s going on. Eating patterns all over the shop. Sentences shortening.

I’ve got nine eggs left, and I eat a lot of eggs. So that’s a concern. There don’t seem to be many eggs about. Why are people suddenly such big egg fans, they’re not long life and you can’t wipe your arse with them. It’s weird. Do you think hens are aware of their importance? They’re basically key workers now, which technically means that eggs should be allowed in schools. They’re at risk too, from me. Because I like eggs. So they should have access to a social worker and free school meals. No nuggets please. Mind you, going by the government approved (lol) list, pretty much everyone’s a key worker. Which is nice to know. Nice to be needed isn’t it, and one can only assume that supermarket workers, call centre agents and post persons are looking forward to our new society in which they are paid handsomely, attract hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers and appear on The Graham Norton Show. 

Nothing amusing to caption this with. It's a pandemic. Grow up.

In this brave new world, we will all care more about the environment. Just look at Italy, where canals are clearer and dolphins have popped by to say ‘hey, it’s cool, we’re back and maybe you lot aren’t total pricks’. We’ll value each other and the big wheels that even the smallest cog turns. Countries and their peoples will join hands around a cleaner, greener planet and we’ll all sing Imagine by John Lennon, just like those people we used to call celebrities did before we started following street sweepers and shelf stackers on Twitter instead. Or, after a month or two of normality we’ll revert to being self-propelling id monster’s intent on consuming everything in sight and destroying the other. I can’t decide.

You’d think my outlook on humanity would make self-isolation a breeze. It’s usually other people isolating me, so in a way I’m just taking back control – but who am I meant to feel better than, huh? Who do I tease and mock? What of The Judgmental? Did anyone think of that? No. Because you’re all worse than me. I don’t mean it. I’m just lashing out. Ok, I mean it a bit, but everyone has a part of them that knows they’re best, or they’d kill themselves in order for the planet to last longer for the rest of us. And if it brings down house prices and means there’re more eggs to go around, I say knock yourselves out. Or blow yourselves up. Or throw yourselves off something. You get it.

Day 4 and I’m advocating mass suicide to improve access to omelettes. It’s not a good start, is it? Ordinarily I’d only encourage it if you were stupid or walking slowly in front of me in town. Big stuff. I think I need a schedule of tasks, be they productive or merely distracting. I’m open to suggestions. In fact, if I get some good ideas, I’ll stream me doing them. We can do them together. We’ll grow closer, like a little online family, using each other like an episode of Friends or a book by E L James – something of increasingly questionable quality that passes the time. There will be less sexual tension though, unless watching a fully grown adult man shout at zombies while proving he has no sniper skills gets you going. In which case, you have problems beyond the current state of the world. And we should probably go for a drink when all this is over.

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