Day 9 Lockdown. April Fool.

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Started morning with Bengal chasing Darth 'Mr Wiggles' Vader around bed and repeatedly hitting herself in face with the stick. Felines - gorgeous but not always very bright.
Shower and ready for work, wear the tightest most spandex sports leggings I can find so I can be ready for any flash of potential exercise in the day. Then crawl back to bed, today's office. Hope colleagues can't spot my pillows in conference calls. Cosy. Start to feel too warm and wonder if have popped on thermals by accident.
Haven't played April Fool on parents yet. Usually get Dad with DIY related tales of horror and panic (he almost called an ambulance once when I told him a boyfriend had done his back in and was lying at bottom of bath where there was also now a big hole) Tell Mum have been awarded £8000 from BHS for PPI. Vaguely suspicious but very, very chuffed and wants to tell Dad. Enjoy my new found wealth for around 20 minutes before call from Dad who's sussed it. He says £1000 would have been more realistic. Accountants!
Little Lodger tells me that her work are considering next steps and looking at furloughing. Corona effects are becoming too close to home. Love our house of merriment. Break the rules and we have long hug to try and cheer up.
Full day of work clickety-click-clacking on lappie. Feel very energised. Inside, channeling concert pianist as I type. Brain melts at trying to remember stuff I knew off by heart two weeks ago. Conference calls with colleagues delivering systems training. Working from home involves mentally, less wolf packs eating people for saying the wrong thing.
5.30 wave and just two of us. Really good chat but news is getting grimmer so we talk about cats and hedgehogs. Had left my number for neighbor recently and she also passed it to her friend. Both elderly and no access to online - their isolation is total compared to mine. Wonder if there's something I can do? Will have a good think. Feels good to offer help.
Home to Little Lodger wanting to do a Joe Wicks PE lesson. How hard can it be? Sodding hard when she selects 26 minute HIIT workout by accident. Within 20 seconds of the first 40 we are flat on the floor knackered. By 14 minutes we are in hysterics and grunting so hard it sounds like a day at the pig-farm. Start to look at Joe's lounge and Little Lodger wonders if he has tiny vacuums attached to his shoes so he cleans as he goes. Squat exercises have us scuttling sideways like geriatric Hermit crabs. Joe says it's all such hard work. Think Joe is bullshitting us about how knackered he is. 26 minutes, faceplant floor in relief. Knock Corona over in kitchen while pouring squash. Bottle explodes. Drink it to save waste.
Spot that Chris Hemsworth is doing workouts. Will test those out - for research.
Bestie on a video call thinks I'm crackers. Tell her this stuff really does happen in my head. She yells at her [socially distant )buddy in street to read my diary. Nice compliment. Dream of fame.
Creak through dinner and Ferris Buellers day off. Bedtime soundtrack is whistling cat snoring.

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