By Courtney Blomquist
Day One: Started stretching a lot more than I used to. Because #yogaeverydamnday is a lot more achievable when you’re unemployed.
Day Three: Binged Tiger King. Concluded that cats are goddesses and people are spoiled Walmart meat.
Day Five: Stared out the window… for fun.
Day Seven: Made my own homemade bread! And the kneading part was absolutely mesmerizing…
Day Eight: Attempted knitting but couldn’t stop playing with the yarn.
Day Nine: Slept for a ten hours, ate breakfast (can of tuna). Slept for another four hours, ate lunch (also a can of tuna).
Day Ten: Began scraping my extremely grown out gel-extension nails on all of the furniture in a desperate attempt to file them down.
Day Thirteen: Made a makeup tutorial on recreating Taylor Swift’s look from CATS and then sang “Memory” at the top of my lungs for my fans (I don’t have any fans). But real talk, the lyrics APPLIED to the quarantine.
Day Fifteen: Pushed my coffee cup off the table… for fun.
Day Sixteen: Sprinted back and forth across the apartment for exercise.
Day Eighteen: Hissed when I paid my rent.
Day Twenty: Fought the urge to lick myself clean instead of showering. Showers terrify me now. I suddenly hate water.
Day Twenty Two: Swallowed a piece of yarn… for fun.
Day Twenty Four: Played with my leg hair, which has now grown into a deliciously soft pelt. Licked it a little, if I’m honest.
Day Twenty Six: Awoke to both of my cats hovering over me.
“Your are one of us," they said with eyes so dilated they were black.
“I-I didn’t realize you could talk," I stuttered.
“Perhaps it’s that we can talk… or perhaps it’s that you can understand. Come with us.”
They had made an excellent point. So I followed them as they sang,
“Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can dream of the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again”.
And then I pulled down my pants and shat in a box.
Image: Cats/The Latch