Rebecca Solnit is so smart.

At least, she is in her essay about how fairytales are the stories we need in this moment. For one, “fairytale characters are given tasks that are often unfair verging on impossible, imposed by the more powerful.” In this case, our more powerful is a virus. “They are often mastered by alliances with other overlooked and undervalued players.” Essential workers such as grocery workers and truck drivers come to mind.

Solnit writes, “We [a]re ourselves in the middle of a fairytale, and that at present our difficult task [i]s to stay home.”

Which doesn’t sound hard when you write it out. Stay home. That’s what I do all the time, anyway.

But somehow, it’s really hard. Not seeing people is hard. Constantly being on Zoom calls is hard. Not being able to nip into the library or grab a head of lettuce for Linus or hang out in the post office speaking with a neighbour is hard because all those things are normal. They’re not really interactions I crave, but I miss them because they represent normal and non-scary. And what we’re left with is abnormal and scary.

The wolf in the woods.

Somehow, having it said makes me feel better: “We are in the middle and the end is not in sight. We are waiting, which is among most people’s least favorite thing to do, when it means noticing that you have taken up residence in not knowing.”

We’re telling ourselves stories right now. And that’s okay, as long as we know they’re just stories until we get to the end of the book and we actually know what happens next.

We’ve been watching cooking videos from Da Mario’s, a favourite restaurant in London. The chef is posting recipes from the menu and explaining why he does things. Like did you know that if you add vegetable stock to a cream sauce, it won’t clump up? So once or twice a week, we schedule in Da Mario nights, pretending that we’re at the restaurant and our substitutions are close enough to the real deal.

Plus he made me cry when he got choked up during his first video.

What are you eating?

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Stop procrastinating. Go make your backups. Don’t have regrets.

Seriously. Stop what you’re doing for a moment. It will take you fifteen minutes, tops. But you will have peace of mind for days and days. It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments in order to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week. In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “When Our World Shifts Beneath Us” (No Kidding in NZ)
• “Jealous of Fiction” (Stirrup Queens) — thank you, Jess!
• “Die Kinder anderer” (Elaine ohne Kind)
• “The ‘Have Children or Do Something Big’ Dilemma” (Different Shores)
• “Life at a Different Altitude” (Stirrup Queens) — thank you, KatherineA

Okay, now my choices this week.

Infertile Phoenix received the perfect understanding of her own heart via a response to a comment. She explains, “I wanted children because I wanted to love them. I have a lot of love to give.” You’ll need to read the whole post (and Elaine’s post, too) to follow the thought, but it gets to the core of why infertility and loss hurts so deeply.

By the Brooke wonders how the current situation will remain with her kids into the future. She writes: “I keep thinking of ways that this experience is shaping my children’s lives in ways that might have real and lasting impacts. Like, hopefully they’ll be very good handwashers. But also, they might never touch people.” The post is an unpacking of a lot of thoughts that are in my head, too, of what life will be like down the road.

Res Cogitatae has dusted off her blog (welcome back!) to ask why she is angry all the time if things are generally okay? The two voices in her head are also the ones in mine: “The voice that says (truthfully) that in the grand scheme of things EVERYTHING IS FINE and the voice that says (also truthfully) that THIS IS TERRIBLE AND I HATE IT.” Read through the twists and turns in her brain; there is probably something in there (or many things) that you will have you saying, “me too.”

Finally, My Path to Mommyhood writes about the draining quality of quarantine stress. Even though things are going well with work, days of screens becomes evenings of screens. She is helping her students tremendously, but it takes something out of each teacher who is spending the day online, reaching out to their students. She writes about comparative suffering (akin but not exactly the Pain Olympics): “It’s basically feeling like empathy is a pie and I can’t feel exhausted for myself while there are healthcare workers out there who are working endless 12 hour shifts, so my frustration and exhaustion isn’t as bad as theirs. She said you have to have empathy for yourself and realize that everyone has the right to their suffering without comparing to others.” So, yes, let it out. And be kind to yourself.

The roundup to the Roundup: What are you eating? Your weekly backup nudge. And lots of great posts to read. So what did you find this week? Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between April 24 – May 1) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week? Read the original open thread post here.

It’s hard to imagine life ever entering a third stage; as in, if what we thought of as normal life is stage one, and our current normal is stage two, there must be a stage three that is not stage one OR stage two. A time when we can leave our house, but we’re still carrying baggage from being in lockdown, so our normal looks different once again.

The third stage.

I think about 2023. Yes, by 2023, we must be well into the third stage. 2022? Yes, probably in the third stage zone. I keep trying to creep the date closer and closer to now—could we possibly be in the third stage this summer? How about June? I’m pretty sure it can’t be May.

I have to believe that the third stage exists—not just for my sanity, but because I can look at history and know that people live through time periods and come out the other side. These types of reminders are getting me through thinking about the here and now.

There’s a reason these lines were the most highlighted ones in the piece:

But I don’t worry for long. Because I’ve read a lot of history, and I know that scary unknowns aren’t unique to our present circumstances. We actually live with a lot more knowledge, understanding, and predictability than people have throughout history.

Leaving this post here in case you need to gain some breathing space, too.

I feel like I’m crawling each week toward the weekend. Which is ridiculous because I’m in the same location, doing pretty much the same thing, whether it’s a Tuesday or a Saturday. With the exception of the time I need to wake up. I guess I am crawling toward the weekend so I don’t need to set an alarm.

My life isn’t all that different with the exception that we can’t go out and everyone is home. I’ve always worked from home, so that’s still the same. I usually work a few hours on the weekend, so that’s the same. I’ve always cooked and cleaned. So that’s still the same. I’ve always read and played solitaire and watched television with everyone. So. Again. The same.

But it feels like I’m living life at a different altitude. It’s the same activities—working, cooking, cleaning—but it feels harder. Like I’m moving through thicker air and it takes that much more energy to get from Point A to Point B.

Which is all in my mind. I know I’m in the same place. I know everything around me is familiar. But it feels like someone changed the altitude. And now I need to readjust and figure out how to efficiently work, cook, and clean at a different height.

For an indefinitely period of time.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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When all of this began, weeks ago, we created a list of house rules and clipped it up on the refrigerator. There were the “musts” that we mostly do: three meals per day, do your work, put on clothes. (Yes, sweatpants count.) And then there were the “tries,” which came with the understanding that they may not happen every single day, but they should happen at least three or four times per week.

One of the “tries” is connect with a friend via video chat or a similar medium. Something more than a text message. I told them that it was like a vitamin; it wouldn’t cure anything but your body certainly knows when it’s missing. Connecting with people can prevent bigger problems down the road. Just as you may be able to avoid certain health issues if you get a regular supply of nutrients (I’m looking at you, scurvy), having a regular dose of friendship may stave off some emotional crises. Again, not perfect prevention, but better than nothing.

So if you haven’t connected with someone in the last seven days, schedule a video call.

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.