Gloomy, isn't it. The window is right by my downstairs workstation, however, where I do most of my writing. Sometimes it's sunny. Sometimes I see people walking past and cars driving by.
This is my life under quarantine.
So are my experiments with sourdoughs. Today, a loaf of yeast water no-knead bread (Henrietta) sits on the stovetop, waiting for its time to bake. (Yeast water is different from sourdough in that you have what amounts to a weak wine working on the bread dough).
So is my writing. I took a break from adding a stronger beginning to Prodigies yesterday; I should be able to finish that today and then go through the book to adapt things.
So is coffee. Between my husband's roasts brewed in a vacuum pot and the Nespresso machine for mid-afternoon cups, I'm covered.
So are the fountain pens I'm collecting -- All under $25, mostly Japanese (Pilot Metropolitan, Platinum Plaisir) and German (Lamy Al-Star), and a really inexpensive Jinhao that looks like a Lamy made by Rubbermaid). This and ink is where my allowance has been going the past few months, as I like collecting practical things I can use.
So is my teaching online. And the Zoom faculty meetings.
I don't have it too bad, despite the view out my window being very limited. My husband and I still have jobs that allow social isolation. We have money for groceries. We have four cats. We have each other. We're staying healthy.
This quarantine is so much harder for so many other people.
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