Time in the pandemic is a totally made up construct I’ve decided.

I told myself I’d get back into blogging. I told myself every Wednesday I would launch a new post. And then somehow, minutes turned into hours, hours into days and days into weeks. Suddenly I realized again, that time had slipped by.

I’m working on being kind to myself, a difficult task when you’re stuck inside the walls of your dwelling, and the inside of your skull. If you aren’t your own harshest critic, then I envy you. For most of the creatives I know, the voice that shouts them down the most, that berates them for days and hours and minutes “lost”, is their own.

I said to my phone: “hey google, how many days has it been since March 14th?” and google said:


144 days since lockdown (for me and the rest of California). When I see it written out like that my mind whirs. That feels like such a long time. It’s 20 and a half weeks. It’s 4.7 months. It’s half a baby in utero. That non existent baby in my uterus would be the size of an avocado. I love avocado’s! I’m a millennial after all.

SO much has happened, and so little. The days speed up and slow down in a weird hour glass where some particles are made of sand, some of air, and some of mud. Time slips, floats and oozes as we make our way through the year 2020.

How bizarre.

I have no hot take on why time is doing what it is doing. I’m also into my early thirties now, so I feel like I’ve hit that age group that looks back at a year and says “is it the Christmas holiday season ALREADY?” And the answer is, no it isn’t QUITE yet.

But it will be.

144 days from now it will be December 27th.

So i’ll just pop in early and say Happy Holiday’s y’all.