When you start wondering about your own tongue
Friday 20th March
4rth day under lockdown
If there’s one thing to be thankful of, it is that, due to school, we aren’t forced to put up with our family everyday of the year. Imagine if, each morning, you had to endure your mother’s annoying horror of you touching her hair, touching her feet, touching her chair, drinking in her glass, eating with your mouth open, eating with your elbows on the table, not being properly seated, watching your phone....
And then you’d have to bear your brother shuffling to one side, then to the other, tapping his fingers on the table, making beatbox noises, tapping his foot on the table, wiggling on his chair, getting up, running three times around the table, sitting down, getting up again, fetching a second dessert, sitting down again, etc.
At the same time your sister giggling hysterically to herself with no apparent reason or staring right through you and off into space or even asking creepy questions out of the blue: "Mom, how come we don’t know the taste of our own tongue ?"
That sounds pretty intense, right ? Well I didn’t even mention my father’s habit of checking the laundry every forty secondes, emptying the dishwasher five times a day and the recently acquired one: washing his hands at least eight times before going to sleep. Understand why I say that we can be thankful of not having to tolerate them every day ?
Well thanks to the pandemic, peace isn’t an option anymore.
Regretting work yet ?
4rth day under lockdown
If there’s one thing to be thankful of, it is that, due to school, we aren’t forced to put up with our family everyday of the year. Imagine if, each morning, you had to endure your mother’s annoying horror of you touching her hair, touching her feet, touching her chair, drinking in her glass, eating with your mouth open, eating with your elbows on the table, not being properly seated, watching your phone....
And then you’d have to bear your brother shuffling to one side, then to the other, tapping his fingers on the table, making beatbox noises, tapping his foot on the table, wiggling on his chair, getting up, running three times around the table, sitting down, getting up again, fetching a second dessert, sitting down again, etc.
At the same time your sister giggling hysterically to herself with no apparent reason or staring right through you and off into space or even asking creepy questions out of the blue: "Mom, how come we don’t know the taste of our own tongue ?"
That sounds pretty intense, right ? Well I didn’t even mention my father’s habit of checking the laundry every forty secondes, emptying the dishwasher five times a day and the recently acquired one: washing his hands at least eight times before going to sleep. Understand why I say that we can be thankful of not having to tolerate them every day ?
Well thanks to the pandemic, peace isn’t an option anymore.
Regretting work yet ?
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