Today, I did not venture out of the house. Once. Well, maybe I walked out to the front patio and out at the back, but essentially still within the confines of home. My car sat idle in the garage, and I am beginning to think I just might make that three weeks to the gallon (or even litre), that some have been claiming. My trainers sat by the front door, and we still have the same number of masks we had yesterday. Yes, we have re-useable masks too, but I find it hard to venture out looking like some bandit.
Exercise. Ah, yes, exercise. Well, the excuse for avoiding cardio was tuition. Classes started at 9am. I could have got out of bed at 6am, but I decided that an extra hour of trying to sleep was more beneficial than a feeble attempt at running and avoiding the social distancing warriors. I also have the excuse that I have lost my water bottle. I am not sure how you can lose a metallic water bottle and not notice it, but I have/did.
Lessons, of course, were fun. The Saturday morning girls are full of humour, and today they were engaged and full of ideas and fun. We read, we discussed, we built a website together (well, we used google sites ;) ), we completed a stack of area and perimeter worksheets, and I amazed my second student by changing the background colour on Jamboard. "How did you do that?" "Ah, ha, magic." And that is how it will stay until she finds the function to change the background.
The extension of the lockdown, brought a shortage of chocolate, or rather a perceived shortage of chocolate. As I discovered, there are ways and means of ensuring its "essentail" classification. So, this afternoon, realising that I had managed to hoard butter in the freezer, I set to making cookies again. That gave my arm a work out. Some Brazilian sugar - why Brazilian? I know Singapore is diversifying its food sources, but Brazil? Visions of the Ambassador's party and Ferrero Rocher piled up like Everest on a silver platter flashed across my vision. Not that Ferrero Rocher is Brazilian. I digress. And eggs, bio-separated eggs, whatever that is. And flour. And baking powder. And chocolate chips.
Then it dawned on me. I should order sugar, more Brazilian sugar, check. I should order flour. What happened to all the flour? There's no stock. And no stock of baking powder. As I watched my cookies bake, the horrific thought hit me. It is true, men are making lists and routines and exercise schedules, and women are baking. Hail the rise of Lockdown Woman #lockdownwoman who I flippantly mentioned a few posts back. It is true. We are reverting to our pre-liberalised selves, we are reverting to type. It's like living in a cave with mod-cons. (Mod-cons are nothing to do with reformed convicts taking up exercise, but the term used for modern conveniences such as washing machines that liberated women from split nails and vacuum cleaners that ensured a healthy supply of broomsticks for witches).
Fifty cookies later, I have packed them in a glass cookie jar, placed an airtight box of cookies in the fridge and an emergency selection in the freezer. We shall see if they last longer than 24 hours this time round ...
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