Carole went out to meet a friend today for a walk and to sign some paperwork for something or other.
So I am was free spirit. Free.
I could do anything I wanted to do. Anything. Anything at all. I could have run around the house naked. I could have slept all day. The world was my oyster. Within current government guidelines, of course.
Which is how I found myself spending hours and hours cleaning various bits of the house. For fun, seemingly.
It was one of those days where I made a list. A list of things I could do. But they weren’t fun things. They were mundane things but it would be nice to do them. One of those days.
Okay, I lied. One of them was a fun thing.
Carole had asked me to sort out the wires under her desk because it was an absolute shitshow down there and she kept getting tangled up in them like a dolphin in a trawler net. Some days she’d wanted to leave the office but couldn’t until she’d looked up various techniques for undoing knots, such was her wire trauma.
I’m not saying that I enjoyed doing that, but there are few things more satisfying that some tidy wires. Even if it’s just for the few moments they remain tidy before they inexplicably tangle round one another again when you’re not looking, and when you return to them to remove or replace a wire it’s a birds nest of horror.
Honestly. It was one of my happiest times from the whole of lockdown.
Wiring solutions is my jam, it turns out.
So now there’s an extension lead cable tied to the underside of the table, with the wire to the socket tied to one of the back legs. There are wire grips at the edge of the table, holding the wires in place so they don’t trap delicate legs with their evil machinations. There’s even a grip holding all the oddly specific charging wires that, no word of a lie, Carole has lost multiple times during lockdown and ordered more of each time. We are, although we do not know where they are right now, awash with charging wires which will only ever fit one particular sports watch. Such is our life now.
When I’d done it all and stepped back to admire my handiwork, my first thought was to take a picture.
Except, I don’t think the picture – if I’d taken one – was to send to Carole to show her how nice her desk was. I think the picture was for me. Just for me. I could save it in a special folder.
And in times of chaos, take five minutes to look at it and remember how calm and controlled things could be.