The gates of Heaven: Day 7 of self-isolation

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you mon chez moi à moi.

I realized that, not being at the peak of my neo-Dickensian (why can I already predict the comment Raheny_Eye is going to leave?) descriptive powers, the casual reader of this blog will have no idea of what the level of self-isolation will be. This chair marks the boundary of my domain: beyond here be dragons. Or at least Mrs. Ottawacker and Ottawacker Jr.

The chair is the chair from which, when the door is open and the reclining cushions installed, Ottawacker Jr. gets his daily fix of Lord of the Rings. He has, today, located a second copy of the book, and announced his intention to follow along as I read. I am not sure what I think about this. Part of the reading experience is to let the words flow over you, to become immersed in the sound of the story and not try to bring in a second sense. In addition, I do not follow the text faithfully. There is a select number of words I occasionally change (not always, but sometimes) – and it is easier to get the sense of a text orally when you don’t understand certain words than when it is written down. Anyway, that will be a bridge I jump off when I come to it. 

Another day gone by in the quest to prove myself non-contagious. I have been back for a week now – almost minute for minute as I write this – and haven’t succumbed to the virus yet. It is definitely out there though, and even though Ottawa has been ­so far reasonably safe, I think it is only a matter of time. 

I am going a little stir crazy – to the point where I welcomed having to do the laundry – and can’t wait to get out. The issue will be, of course, that I am getting out of a dungeon to go into a larger gaol.