Updated: Dec 4, 2020
I have not had this in a while, the last time was maybe when lying in a hospital bed and thinking about all the fun that my friends were having out there, in the summery sun-kissed world.
(I have moved into a house with the love of my life – I feel like I should precursor this mope with my own context, by the way, I am happy.)
At the moment we have no internet and are busy moving-in; painting, decorating, searching, planning, eating, etc. My mind is taken up by all manner of things like, ‘Where the hell is the dustpan and brush?’ and, ‘Why is this microwave so complicated?’
And yet, when it comes to the witching hour, a term I heard from a friend who has recently given birth, which is when daylight warps into dusk and babies find it disturbing and cry, I get the heebie-jeebies wash over me too.
It’s a certain sinking feeling you get, as if you were in a cavernous auditorium and the lights are being switched off one by one from the back. It’s the encroaching darkness that dampens my mood. It’s why the Danes have hygge, right?
I feel even more out of joint from my normal routine. I have no internet, so can’t check my inbox for unread mail. Usually this means nothing to me, but this is not the deep truth because they do mean something to me, they are my normality.
I usually unlock my phone out of habit like sighing deeply after climbing a hill, and when I see those red notifications my pulse rate lowers, then I carry on. Even if I return the device to the crevices of my pocket without checking them, it does the trick.
I was never aware of this sort of dependency. I watch my drinking, I watch my sugar intake, but do I watch the number of times I light up my phone for no reason? Pretending to check the time and date although I can’t seem to hold it in my head for more than the split second it took for the light to flash on and off. But the colours of my friends on my wallpaper brighten up my boredom to give me a hit of happiness in these gloomy times.
About the author:
Rimika is a writer who keeps a blog called A Lack Thereof. She researches cross-cultural information for A is for Duck, and has written an adventure tale about three furry friends during Lockdown 1.0 called Otter & Bear.
If you have some work you would like featured on the site, drop us an email at email@example.com
If you enjoy reading our content, you can support us by: signing up to our emailing list and following us on Instagram , becoming a Patreon for just £1 a month, or simply by sharing your favourite stories