It’s a 2:30am wake up today, rather than 2am, but sleep is mocking me at this point. When sleep was similarly elusive, in another time, another world – another life it feels like – when I lived in Laos, and discovered that cocks do not only crow at dawn, but at all hours of the day and night – I made up my mind that if I couldn’t sleep, I would be awake, I would read, write, think, get up, do something, embrace the gift (/curse?) of consciousness. After trying to read myself to sleep for 2 hours, I decide to embrace this bygone promise to myself and start the morning routine early.
Today is PCR test day.
I go through my morning routine in denial about how much trepidation I am filled with. It’s not even like it’s my first one – I had one JIC before I left Ireland. Perhaps it’s worse because I know what’s coming.
I go through the morning motions with more verve than usual – yoga with sunrise, 7:50 walking session, head to the lobby, book next day’s exercise session, see if other exercise area is full (it’s not, get in some extra steps, boo-yah) order coffee, head back to my room, scoop up breakfast waiting outside my door, HIIT 10 minute workout, eat, shower, call Jared, collapse for a bit.
Later in the morning, while I’m restlessly pacing the room, I call my Nana – I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed to hear from me!
“Hi Nana! How are you?”
“Who’s this?” Well, we’re off to a good start here aren’t we?
“It’s Lauren!”
“Oh Lauren! Hello! Are you in New Zealand now? I can’t wait to see you in the flesh!” That’s more like it.
Just then the room phone rings. “Nana, I have to go for my Covid test now!”
Having successfully invoked Murphy’s Law to hurry up and get this thing over and done with, I take my passport with me and head downstairs. They print out a barcode and give it to me. I proceed to a conference room and assume a chair facing a wall, as I’m serenaded by the screams of terrified children, whose desperate parents are trying to convince them to take the test.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment” the nurse chirps as she finishes up with her current patient.
I turn around to give the parents across the other side of the room a sympathetic look, and catch the eye of the woman next to me. “There’s a little part of me that would like to be protesting like them right now, not gonna lie.”
She grins. “I’m sure it’ll be over in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Haven’t heard that one for a while. It is good to be home.
The nurse comes over, scans my barcode with her phone, asks me to pull my mask to expose my nose – something that seems surprisingly scandalous these days – and very gently does the test. “All done!” I stumble out of the conference room with eyes streaming. (I promise I wasn’t putting up as much of a fight as the kids!)
I get back to my room, and try calling Nana again.
“Hi Nana, it’s Lauren”
“Yea, I know it’s you this time.”
“My test is all done and dusted!”
“Good to hear. Oh Lauren, a visitor just arrived, call me back later.” Even at nearly 90, my Nana is the life of the party.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. A package! It is the book that my very sweet and caring husband has purchased (from an independent local bookstore) so that we can take turns at reading to each other over video calls in my absence. The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson. This reminds me that he sent me a list of games that we can play virtually together. I really must look at downloading some of those. I am so utterly spoiled to have such a gem of a life partner, he is ‘sound’ as the Irish would say.
The sleeplessness thing is doing my head in, so I formulate a plan that involves putting myself to bed as I would a child. I then set about performing some scientific experiments on the bath plug – wrapping a shower cap around the existing plug seems to suffice, 2 times around isn’t enough – gets air bubbles in the rest of the cap and lifts the plug out, 3 times, same problem. 4 times is the Goldilocks amount. The water is still disappearing a little, but at a more tolerable rate – lose 5 cms over an hour rather than half the bath in 10 minutes. I should probably call reception, but playing MacGyver is much more fun.
Speaking of innovations, I also worked out that I can use an iron to toast Vogels – because untoasted vogels is just… No. I try, with great oversight and hesitation, being hyperaware that if I fuck it up and set off the fire sensor, then there’s a hefty fine in my future. When did this become living on the wild side? I turn the steam setting waaaaay down low, open a window, and get it nice and crispy. Another productive time suck – by the time I’ve made two pieces toasted on both sides the 3:30itis has nearly passed.
I had forgotten how disgusting Auckland tap water is, so today’s mission is finish a bottle of wine in order to be able to chill some water in the bottle. Mission is going well so far. It’s not going to be easy, but a sacrifice I’m willing to make. Jet lag feels a bit like a headstart towards being tipsy, so should be a good evening.
I run a bath at 7pm, like I would for an actual child. I made myself a double strength camomile tea, alternate sips between wine and tea.
I turn the air-con down real low and KO reading Girl, Woman, Other at 8:30. (#Lifehack: Can’t leave the light on if the book is on your Kindle phone app.)
great sense of humour Lauren…very funny 🙂