Homebound In the Time of the Corona Virus

Three weeks homebound.  Amazing how at first, instead of how I imagined, I did absolutely nothing except make dinner, feed the animals and do the dishes, yet during the second week, for a few hours in the morning, I started to write stories, little vignettes about all the animals we have had in our life, for the simple reason of doing something I enjoyed.  By the end of this third week I found myself wondering if I was getting depressed for I certainly wasn't tackling any of those jobs about which I always claimed:"If only I had the time".  Except for the writing, it has been as if I am apathetic. That was a little scary until I found myself wondering if I wasn't wallowing in the luxury of doing only what I chose to do after these past eleven years of balancing a full time job and household obligations. Sure, I could have used some muscle memory to address all those ambitious tasks at a slower pace, instead I followed my inclination to do nothing, ignoring the clutter of mail that sits at the far end of my kitchen table, and wondered that if I'm not actually depressed, which occurred to me, could I instead have been creating a vacuum, a space, enabling the return of my forgotten pleasure in composing and writing observations and stories.  I know they energize me.  So, perhaps if this lockdown continues, that energy will spill over into my day, maybe I'll get to that mail, but for
now, I'm in position to see this imposed isolation as an unexpected opportunity to welcome back a side of myself I had almost forgotten and once thrived on.