They’ve said that one of the possible symptoms of COVID-19 is the lost of taste and smell. I think for those of us in quarantine for twelve or thirteen weeks now, we’re suffering from a loss of all sense of time.
It’s bad enough that I can’t remember what day of the week it is any more. But between the odd and long hours of working from home, not sleeping well, all of the other various physical and mental strains and stresses, and the fact that I spend hours at a time without any outside view or reference to day and night (unless there’s an ISS pass or Venus or something to go see), the last few days I’ve been having trouble having a good sense of what time of day it is.
One minute I’ll be thinking it’s about 20:00, maybe 20:30, and then notice that it’s 22:30. Ten minutes later I’ll be feeling like it must be at least 02:00 and I need to get to bed and I’ll be screwed in the morning trying to get up – but it’s 22:40.
Or it could just be that I picked the Jean-Michel Jarre Pandora channel (with lots of JMJ, Enigma, Tangerine Dream, Amethstium, and so on) on the headphones for the last fourteen hours. It kept the sound of the howling winds out, but it may have sucked my brain into an alternate dimension where the clocks run a bit differently.
If we’re going to be switching dimensions or timelines, I have a few requests…