Day 38: the penalties of insufficient exercise
Sunday, 3 May 2020 03:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtI have successfully not left the house for two reasonably pleasant weeks, work irritations and general global angst notwithstanding, but today I planned to go and pick up a prescription. Which was not entirely simple, because our current lockdown rules require that you wear a mask in public, and it's taken over a week for me to flog myself into hauling out the sewing machine and constructing one, which in the event, when I did finally reach a critical gumption mass, took me just over half an hour and wasn't onerous. Apparently on some subconscious level I really don't want to leave the house.
Which, apparently, my techno-jinx recognises, because I finally hauled myself out of the house this morning, after the regular Sunday morning hangout session with jo&stv, and... the car made the nasty choked whirring noise of a totally flat battery, and wouldn't start. Which is inevitable, I've been hearing that exact noise up and down the road all week as neighbours who, like me, haven't driven in a while, made the same discovery. (Said sound effects have been interspersed, from Friday onwards, with the ecstatic yapping over-excitement of neighbourhood hounds permitted, since lockdown went down a level, their due and just walkies for the first time in a month. I swear on Friday they were going down the road at approximately two minute intervals. This just in: Nation's Hounds Officially Stir Crazy).
But the car battery is an interesting tactical problem, actually, because it must be so common. I am hoping madly that car mechanics are an essential service and still operating, because, my hyper-prepared possession of jumper cables notwithstanding, I really don't think any of my neighbours, under the same restrictions as I am, will have car batteries any better charged than mine. Which means that said car mechanics are going to spend the rest of lockdown wafting from client to client with their happy portable charger thing, rescuing us from the inevitable effect of all this sedentary staying at home. Lockdown: inevitable physical decay, both human and mechanical. I should possibly take the car for a run when I've achieved actual function.
Which, apparently, my techno-jinx recognises, because I finally hauled myself out of the house this morning, after the regular Sunday morning hangout session with jo&stv, and... the car made the nasty choked whirring noise of a totally flat battery, and wouldn't start. Which is inevitable, I've been hearing that exact noise up and down the road all week as neighbours who, like me, haven't driven in a while, made the same discovery. (Said sound effects have been interspersed, from Friday onwards, with the ecstatic yapping over-excitement of neighbourhood hounds permitted, since lockdown went down a level, their due and just walkies for the first time in a month. I swear on Friday they were going down the road at approximately two minute intervals. This just in: Nation's Hounds Officially Stir Crazy).
But the car battery is an interesting tactical problem, actually, because it must be so common. I am hoping madly that car mechanics are an essential service and still operating, because, my hyper-prepared possession of jumper cables notwithstanding, I really don't think any of my neighbours, under the same restrictions as I am, will have car batteries any better charged than mine. Which means that said car mechanics are going to spend the rest of lockdown wafting from client to client with their happy portable charger thing, rescuing us from the inevitable effect of all this sedentary staying at home. Lockdown: inevitable physical decay, both human and mechanical. I should possibly take the car for a run when I've achieved actual function.
