Daytime Pyjamas 

Remember the terrifying rude awakening of relentless high-pitched non musical sounds that once used to drive our mornings to a prolonged internal battle about the worth of actually committing to the happenings of this day. There was once a time when the necessity of being abusively woken by a small screaming piece of plastic was huge, when waking early to elevate oneself to important matters of professional advance was no option. 

Now. In this very peculiar world that we seem to live in, things have changed. The alarm clock is now foreign territory. For the first time I am not obligated by the treadmill of occupational prowess to lift myself from my Egyptian cotton stupor, but rather I am seen as respected law abiding citizens for my inertia.

However long it takes, removing myself from the warm nest of overpriced material remains a necessity. Despite not entering the real world, real life must endure. For me this experience is skewed and absurdly contrasted to a time before the storm, given my current disposition. However, for many others this viral extravaganza means continuing to apply efforts remotely, a continued rat race, only from the confines of a more familiar dwelling.

In writing there is an undeniable need to also express my sincerest thanks and absolute gratitude for the incredible community that do not form part of this remote experience, but rather are still expected to function in the wilderness that we are all hiding from. All of the Medical professionals and health care workers who are risking their own health, who still bear the horrific screech of ringing clocks every morning for our safety, deserve unsolicited respect. I too should be in the front line, doing my part to defend our vulnerable race against the mighty Rona, doing what I Love and what I dedicated my life to, but for now this is no option, for now all I can do is offer my heart in words, my gratitude. 

After the confluent battle against gravity its time to make some progress. Without knowing what time it may be there comes now an extremely difficult decision. Usually in a settlement guided by the upcoming events of a day in the world, we can choose in what printed cotton blends we may want to warp ourselves, however now we are left unchaperoned, alone to decide what Day Pyjamas we might wear today.

Thereafter comes what i perceive to be the strategic powerhouse of the day: planning what I might consume for lunch. With so many things to bear in mind this becomes a very challenging situation. An uncertainty with dire consequences. Fridge light Sunburn. Horizontal expansion. Who knows when we might see a place of retail again. How much of the Freshness may I consume? A rationing debacle ensues. 

After this vigorous contemplation it becomes pertinent to now do something proactive. Words seem to fill this empty space for me. A therapy in chasing the title of master wordsmith. Academic engagement of any kind is essential to mental health and perhaps if i can find one purpose for these coherent words it would be to inspire all of those similar to me, confined to a place is lesser freedom, to pursue some form of intellectual engagement. My list of 5 things to try is as follows:

1. Study the economy. 
2. Learn to play an instrument (Even if it is the recorded and you drive you partner to the hills)
3. Cook. Passionately. Something new every day.
4. Write something down. Thoughts. Emotions. Poetry. Random Crap.
5. Build a relationship with someone you care about. 

Finally. As darkness prevails it is now time to prepare for the night ahead. A strange suspense seems to surround me as I open my cupboard doors and am faced again with the formidable decision, of what Night Pyjamas I might chose tonight.