After a year of having a blank slate of a calendar, I find that appointments and other things are elbowing their way in. And I'm surprised that it's seeming a tad stressful. What, a mammogram, book club, and grocery shopping all on the same day? No way. Change that mammo appointment.
Yesterday seemed a bit harried--I had to go over to Mars Hill to return a recorder I'd borrowed, stop at Silvers Mill to inquire about next week's shipment of chicks, pick up a few things at the grocery (remember, until a month ago, John had done all the shopping,) and be back home to meet with a friend and discuss the Appalachian Heritage program she's working on for her school. And then a little prep for my Zoom writing workshop that evening. No big deal--except it seemed like it was.
Ay, law--I've been spoiled this past year with a whole lot of dolce far niente.
Is this Covid re-entry anxiety? I find myself shaking my head at my whiny little bitch response to what would be a very ordinary, nay, even leisurely sort of day for most people. I used to be better at this stuff, always trying to make each trip of the farm serve many purposes and even enjoying negotiating a tight schedule. Now, while I'm delighted to have a bit more freedom, I can see I'm going to have to pace myself and take that freedom in small, socially distanced doses.