In response to Mathangi Krish's rather espionage-y prompt:
And what shall we write today?
Here's a more formalist framework.
a. Use second person only! (As in "You don't know what you are writing")
b. Shadow someone (in your imagination! social distancing y'all!) for a day identifying them only as a "you"and detail all that they do.
c. Write 500 words.
b. Shadow someone (in your imagination! social distancing y'all!) for a day identifying them only as a "you"and detail all that they do.
c. Write 500 words.
Happy writing, folks!
A Day in the Life in the Time of Covid 19
You wake up at 2 a.m., despite the two drinks you had had the evening before. You try not to toss and turn, so as not to wake up your wife, a self-proclaimed light sleeper. You grab your mobile phone, check mails and messages, and play online Suduko, until you fall asleep again at 5 a.m.
When you finally wake up, it is nearly 8 a.m.
You go downstairs to pick up the newspaper from the security guard, as there is no longer door delivery of newspapers. You and your wife have your morning tea and biscuits, the tray on the bed between the two of you. You pick up the tray and put the mugs in the sink.
You make the bed, while your wife does the washing up and starts preparing things for lunch. You are told to make yourself an egg and toast for breakfast. You and your wife are trying to simplify things in the (corona virus) forced absence of the daily helper. You go into your study and try calling the airline regarding the flights you had cancelled last week, trying to get a confirmation of the same. They put you on hold to some dreadful music, and you proceed to microwave yourself a poached egg. You put the toast in the toaster, and are startled by a sharp rap on your hand. You were trying to take toast out of the toaster with your bare hands, while the toaster was on. Apparently you had been distracted by the ping of the microwave. The airline finally connects your call, and assured you that your cancellations had been implemented, after which you have your cold egg and soggy toast.
You tell your wife that you are going to the general store within the housing complex’s precincts. Your phone rings before you can step out, a call regarding a credit card purchase you had made yesterday. You had ordered some gifts for your grandchild’s upcoming birthday, and the amount the credit card company was billing you for didn’t match the cost of the articles purchased. You spend a good forty minutes sorting out this issue, and finally go down to the shop. You buy some cola, some snacks, some breakfast items, toothpaste. You come back home and ask your wife to check out her kitchen supplies, and to go and buy whatever other essentials she needs.
You go back into your study and go through some files and mails. You come out and watch some TV. You put on Netflix, and then get back onto various office calls. You have lunch, and meticulously wash your own plate. You also take down the laundry and pile it onto the guest room bed. Your wife tells you that she wants to withdraw some money from the bank, so you both get into the car. You stop at the colony ATM, which fortunately has cash. You decide to drive to the local market and see what shops are open. Most shops are closed, barring the provision stores and the fruit and vegetable stalls. You buy some vegetables and some fruit and come home.
You answer some more emails, go to your bedroom and lie down. Your wife tells you that it was very nice of you to take down the laundry, but would you please remember, next time, to shut the balcony door!
You snore.
You go downstairs to pick up the newspaper from the security guard, as there is no longer door delivery of newspapers. You and your wife have your morning tea and biscuits, the tray on the bed between the two of you. You pick up the tray and put the mugs in the sink.
You make the bed, while your wife does the washing up and starts preparing things for lunch. You are told to make yourself an egg and toast for breakfast. You and your wife are trying to simplify things in the (corona virus) forced absence of the daily helper. You go into your study and try calling the airline regarding the flights you had cancelled last week, trying to get a confirmation of the same. They put you on hold to some dreadful music, and you proceed to microwave yourself a poached egg. You put the toast in the toaster, and are startled by a sharp rap on your hand. You were trying to take toast out of the toaster with your bare hands, while the toaster was on. Apparently you had been distracted by the ping of the microwave. The airline finally connects your call, and assured you that your cancellations had been implemented, after which you have your cold egg and soggy toast.
You tell your wife that you are going to the general store within the housing complex’s precincts. Your phone rings before you can step out, a call regarding a credit card purchase you had made yesterday. You had ordered some gifts for your grandchild’s upcoming birthday, and the amount the credit card company was billing you for didn’t match the cost of the articles purchased. You spend a good forty minutes sorting out this issue, and finally go down to the shop. You buy some cola, some snacks, some breakfast items, toothpaste. You come back home and ask your wife to check out her kitchen supplies, and to go and buy whatever other essentials she needs.
You go back into your study and go through some files and mails. You come out and watch some TV. You put on Netflix, and then get back onto various office calls. You have lunch, and meticulously wash your own plate. You also take down the laundry and pile it onto the guest room bed. Your wife tells you that she wants to withdraw some money from the bank, so you both get into the car. You stop at the colony ATM, which fortunately has cash. You decide to drive to the local market and see what shops are open. Most shops are closed, barring the provision stores and the fruit and vegetable stalls. You buy some vegetables and some fruit and come home.
You answer some more emails, go to your bedroom and lie down. Your wife tells you that it was very nice of you to take down the laundry, but would you please remember, next time, to shut the balcony door!
You snore.
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