I don't, let me be honest about that.
Until now, it's been like a qurantine honeymoon. I had long understood that I had taken on way too many responsibilities and added to my work load. Now I just write. It is a refreshing change, almost a relief. I write all day every day. That could be a good thing, since I have a deadline to meet for my next novel.
But I have two children and a husband. Each of them has needs. Kids, as you well know, are the Grand Canyon of need. They need my attention and care even when I'm supposed to be writing. This means that all the writing I was thinking of accomplishing is constantly disturbed by "mom, she BIT ME", "mom, she's IN MY ROOM", "mom, there's no TOILET PAPER", "mom, I'm hungry NOW", "mum, she's rubbing cat poo into my HAIR".
The "old saying out of sight, out of mind" does not apply in quarantine. I may close my door, but they're still behind it. Every day, all day.
My husband is a patient man, I'm a patient woman. We've been together for so long that we can stand the sight of each other. I mean, come on. It's spring out there, we have a terrace to go to, a forest we can walk in, instruments we can play, and generally, it's not like rural France is the worst place to be during confinement. We have stood by each other in Paris when we didn't have enough money to buy food and we had to live together in a 8m2 appartment with mice. We can get through this. I mean, as I'm writing this, I'm sitting half naked in the 24°c sun with my window open (no, I'm not taking a selfie, thanks for asking). Life could be much worse.
But the kids. They are at each others throat all the time. I've never seen anything like that, other than in the Middle East politics and the US presidential debates. Now, I'm not a technology buff, in fact, far from it. I only allow one hour of screen time per day to my children. We have no computer games, no consoles, no iPads, and only one smart phone that no-one uses. But I've got to tell you, this is the first time I'm questioning my analog upbringing methods.
Let's not mention the home schooling. Confession: I am no math teacher. I went to school in the 80's and 90's. In Finland, too, not in France. Nothing I know of maths corresponds with what my children need to be taught on a daily basis. Kids are like beasts, they sense weakness. If I show my ignorance, they will ridicule me to no end. So I find myself watching math tutorials on YouTube on my free time that I'm supposed to use to meditate, relax, recharge batteries and all around try not to go insane. Not doing so hot on the sanity front.
I am getting desperate for human interaction, let this be known. So when someone knocks at your door (a neighbor borrowing some eggs), you get all excited! There are PEOPLE! You savour every step to the door. Wonder who that could be! I've noticed that there are secret ways to get some more human action. It's like the black market of social interaction at the village. There are rumors, whispers. "Go to the grocery store on Saturday mornings! The queue is at least 5 people long, you may get to talk to people for 30 minutes if you're lucky!" Hell, one is not supposed to stop to talk to people, but if you're queuing for 30 minutes, are you supposed to stay quiet? No! That's torture! No! I'm talking when I'm queuing! try and stop me! That's my sole moment of civil disobedience, and I'm taking it!
This is what early settlers must have felt like when they heard commotion from their front door after 6 moths of total isolation with the family and goats and a staple diet of beef jerky and dried fish, when they open their doors with a crazy gleam in their eyes.
PEOPLE.
Two more moths to go, folks.
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