As a creature of habit I try and fill my days with sameness to the point I have now slowly begun to expand that standardization of my life from home into one life which I currently live at this moment of quarantine. It's not all the same, of course not. How can it be?
I do not for example have my cat trying to straddle my keyboard as I type nor the same coasters adorning the top right corner of my study table nor do I have all the paraphernalia as I'm used to, none of that, however I have slowly injected a similar monotony of few things that I realize have been an absolute essential.
It's like my room is now my own home where I am able to express myself the way I'd earlier in my entire house and assuredly the identicalness of my top needful things has crawled into my room house that I let myself live in for a few short hours everyday.
I do not have that kind of space in my room to harbour a study area and so a table is all I have which houses my workspace essentials and currently this is the miniature picture I need to be comfortable with and work in. Not that I have complaints but this is day 61 and I have been here longer than I'd expected and I might probably have to spend the same number of days before I'm able to get back to life as I'd always known.
Does that mean I'll be satisfied and happy and learn to live with all I got?
On the contrary. These days of isolation have made me greedy and satisfaction is perhaps the last thing on my roster.
I want more and I'd need it to be better.
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