“Seriously…. not the eggs too!”
I found myself on a third grocery-trip this week.
Panic buying came second to Australian media acting like a dog with rabies or like your little sitter after her first kiss as she sprints around the hall. Someone needs to trip her or throw something to make her stop.
It seems like fear was pushing people to lose their minds but in a collective, interesting way.
“Hopefully in a few weeks he’ll be a sheep,” I tell a lady on the way home, who stops to pat my (basically) hair-less dog.
She paused and I worried that my response was too weird.
But instead she says, “Better teach him to say baaa.”
I thanked her and we part ways. Me with my hairless sheep and her with her weird mind that somehow topped mine. See… interesting.
It seems that living in COVID isn’t enough for my UNI. They have made the subject ‘Designing For Crisis,’ COVID-flavoured. Excellent. My over-anxious mind whispers ‘risk’ into my ear so I decide to take the route of cooking instead.
Since we’re only in day 3, I decide to try and be good and attempt healthy options. Like Banana Bread, smoothie bowls, ect.
The banana bread is so hard because it lacks sugar/happiness that even my boxing teacher declines it. I end up eating the whole thing by myself as it seems the more media I consume ( stupid UNI ) the more anxious I become.
The smoothie bowls are okay but they end up breaking our blender. The Carrot Cake… I forgot to mix the dry and wet ingredients separately so it comes out sharing the same texture as feet. And I don’t want to talk about the Pancakes…
So with that, cooking is officially off the cards.
I also start running at nights along the water. It’s more like pack running as everyone seems to be outside at this time, 5-7pm. It’s not too cold yet and the city lights dance across the harbour like a Van Gogh’s, A Starry-Starry Night.
I like running because it makes me feel connected to people. Happy people. Everyone whether they are with someone or not looks relieved to not be indoors.
On my run I usually pass a guy called Goran. A German man who wears all black.
I usually crack a smile when I see him or laugh.
I had the pleasure of seeing his profile pop up on a dating app a few weeks ago and his bio said he is looking for ‘someone sensible.’
But I also enjoy looking for Goran as a kind of ritual. Just like coming home to Bianca who is usually cooking pasta for 2/3 meals a day. It seems that even in this time of ambiguity it feels good to know some things stays consistent.
A new craving in a new world.
I think we all need that in some form; mine is just in the shape of a 30 year-old man, who’s profile picture is him pulling a serious duck-face.
After passing him, I let the idea go and let the run rinse out all the energy I had stored up during the day.