(no subject)

Today was my one year anniversary of the plague, when the province went into lockdown. Looked back at my LJ entries from that time and it's now all  fantoddy in spades. I have the ability to walk unaware through traumatic happenings- Dr. Johnson's 'stark insensibility'- and sometimes it catches up with me later and sometimes it doesn't. And sometimes, as with the plague, I wonder if it was really traumatic at all or if it only seems that way in hindsight. For sure last March and April feel nightmarish to me now- time gone warped inside out, and slow oh so slow, weeks going on for months. But by June I was aware of a sort of contentment, born of not needing to be anywhere at any given time and a good thing too, because I wasn't able to be anywhere. By contrast, I was only too aware  how traumatic the first months of 2020 were when they were happening, and I'm so glad that major upheaval is over.

Maybe the fantoddy feeling now is more due to the stress of plumbers and electricians and dentists in the last two weeks than to anything that happened a year ago. And there remains the stress of getting tax stuff together and delivered to the new accountants, and deciding whether to have my roof reshingled when NNDs do theirs (He-NND has been booking roofing companies to come do inspections this week) and the operation whenever it happens. Which is quite enough to be going on with.

Also the clocks go forward tonight, which even in the trackless times I currently live in is a nuisance.