Self Isolation Day 46. Of sourdough starters...

I read that some of the hot trends in quarantine have been regrowing cut plants in water (the daughter has done that successfully) and sourdough bread. I think about the bread and realise it's too big of a commitment. If you go away you have to have it minded, like a pet, but pets give love, the starter is only the beginning of the process. Then you have to make the bread and wait and knead and wait some more. The starter makes you earn it's affection. I realise I have become commitment phobic. I'm not even going to give my time to a starter. I am saving that energy for me. Today, although I hung out three loads of washing and brought them in (the daughter is doing an autumnal clean), I didn't fold them! This is something that hasn't happened before. It is strangely satisfying. I have changed so much after my solo year abroad. I am putting my foot down (or maybe feet up) and have a few boundaries established (well one, but that's better than none). Quite proud of myself. You have to start somewhere and not folding washing and sourdough starters are the ones I'm starting with.

I bit the bullet and went shopping again. I chose a place that had hand sanitiser stations and orange coloured round social distancing spots on the floor, with a person who made sure we did. I felt safe. I'm still in European fear mode; it's hard to let it go and the Aussies freak me out. People in groups chatting, pushing past you in the aisles. One man in his fifties , wearing a mask, moved aside when I came by. Should I have asked him for a date? I feel that I should have. They are a rare species. I smiled warmly at people with masks, I couldn't tell if they smiled back.

Another strange thing happened today, I darned! Yes, an old fashioned Amish sort of activity. I went to put a warm chenille quilt onto my bed with the sudden weather change and found there was a metre long split in it. Pre quarantine, I would have folded it and put it away for another day. Today I said to myself: "What are you waiting for? The time is now." And there I sat like a Victorian woman of the finest quality, sewing. What next? Stay tuned. This could get interesting.

The aforementioned chenille bedspread mended.

Self Isolation Day 45. Good things are coming.

I'm still finding my feet, it's like I'm on a boat that has just been through stormy waters and has had to land somewhere else other than the destination you were headed for. What to do here? Well, for a start we've continued the big clean out. The loungeroom is now a no go zone until Vinnies reopens. I have made a writing space and a creation space. The daughter on the other side of the same room has made a crystal alter and a meditation zone. We have changed direction but we're determined to make the best of it.

Every part of my body aches from going up and down the stairs, carrying furniture and bags of non essential items. I thought the exercise I was taking during quarantine would have seen me through but it was sadly deficient in walking stairs and carrying loads. Neither the daughter and I could sleep, I kept on thinking I was in the hotel and would wake disorientated. Needless to say coffee was required upon waking. I have to say it's disconcerting to have self cater again, I'm back to living on apples and cheese after my morning coffee. Hopefully survival instincts will kick in and I'll want to cook a proper meal again.

I heard from a friend today, whom I met overseas ,that as soon as Sicily reopens her borders, the government is saying they will cover half of flight costs and a third of hotel expenses to re-tourist Sicilia! Strangely enough, whilst cleaning, I found a tin sign with Sicilia written on it that I found in Cefalu. I consider it a sign as I got my friends message not long after I remember my three weeks there waking to the morning heat and meeting my friend to have a ricotta croissant (out of this world) and a macchiato before we walked to our language school. Good things are coming to those who wait.

Self Isolation Day 44. Out of the woods or into?

I feel disconnected upon entering back into the world. I feel like I've been out of it for so long. More police checks and early morning pickup from my wonderful neighbour. Sunshiny warmth and a breeze on my face. She has disinfected the car and is wearing a mask for us because I said the daughter and I are slightly paranoid after what we've been through. (I love her, she's the best).

Unpacking I knew would be hard, as it would be taking out our dreams from our suitcases and packing them away into a drawer for a while. We would need fortification for this process - I made an Italian moka coffee for the daughter and myself in proper Italian small coffee cups instead of the big clunky teacups from the hotel Heaven. Then we got to work.

Changes were afoot. I mentioned to a friend that I'm going to miss being in a hotel room, I've been in so many over the last year and a bit. She said why don't you pretend your bedroom is one. Excellent advice! I can think I'm in a Air BnB for an interim period of adjustment. The daughter, within minutes, had unpacked and was changing her room around. The house was in disarray as I also decided to make my art room into a more liveable space. Furniture was on the move, bags of items that we realised we no longer had need of (after living in small spaces with hardly any possessions) were making their way downstairs. I realised I would have to shop, so off I went and upon entering the supermarket, I went into shock. No social distancing was taking place! None. In France if you went down an aisle and saw someone, they or myself would quickly turn down another one; the same in the street. No such rules were in place here, it was a free for all. I found myself holding my breath. I realise I had come from Europe which was an epicentre of the virus and that in Australia we've almost got it under control but it was amazing how you become reliant on a certain routine to feel safe. It was so bizarre seeing dress shops open, cafes. It was all a bit too much after four weeks quarantine in Europe and then being in a hotel room for 2 weeks. I got what I needed and hurried home. My hotel routine has been well and truly replaced and strangely I miss it. The quietness, the knowledge of how the day would go, the safety of the room, not having to shop with people who have no sense of danger. Having come from France where over 20,000 people have died, it seems so blase and devil may care here. It will take me a while to settle back into the Aussie way of : She'll be right mate.

Last selfie in captivity. Even blowdried the hair for the occasion.