COVID-19 Journal: Day 130

I'm in a glum trough. I'm glad I can see the trough. I'm better at that now. 

It's strange to be moving out of the office. Today we kept siphoning. We've gotten rid of a lot of crap we'd collected, and that's always good. I have to keep whatever we keep at my house for the foreseeable, so I'm obviously interested in extreme culling. 

That Box on top with the burned edges is about the same as the first Smithsonian one we sent back in 2016 with our excellent "Frogs in a Box" collection. They now have more than twenty.

I've been struck by the utter lack of energy I feel if or when a friend makes constructive suggestions on how we could win at it all. I can't explain it, other than I might be actually burnt out. If so, I think it's a first. I hope we can have a little celebration of some sort to mark this phase. I can't think of something good.

We watched the whole of the Judicial Committee hearing properly today as we were packing up. It was a strange, combative, exasperated, one-sided two-sided "hearing" with all present sounding frustrated, and the Attorney General coming across as a bit sly, mostly. We wondered what the hearing was intended to produce, if anything other than things on the record.

I met Katy in Victoria Park afternoon sun after work. Joked with her about the fact that I now have an ominous marrow in my home, from her allotment, which I may stick googly eyes on. I could start to talk with it like Wilson.

It might be the glum trough talking, but I'm a bit tired of writing this. We'll see what happens about that. Alan Bennett didn't keep a daily diary ever. He just wrote when something interesting happened. 

It's going to be really hot tomorrow and Friday. I wish I could run away to the beach.