Covid 19. It’s not the draconian lock down procedures, it’s not the fact the police are getting decidedly close to wearing knee high, shiny boots. It’s not the queues, it’s not the death, it’s not even my looming financial meltdown. No, it’s the fact everyone’s treating this like some kind of hyper-extended bank holiday weekend and I hate them for it.
I can’t think of a single day since this started where somebody in the immediate vicinity of my house isn’t jet washing, hammering, sawing, welding, having scaffolding put up, mowing their lawn three times a week, allowing their kids to scream endlessly at the top of their lungs, or best of all using this morning – when all seemed quiet – to get a man in to dismantle their aluminium shed by sawing it into tiny little pieces using equipment I can only imagine is normally used for dismantling ocean going liners. Damn near gave one of my dogs a heart attack and startled me into a coughing fit meaning I had yet another panic attack about it being Covid 19 infecting my body rather than my body simply responding to my poor life choices.
What is it with people? Why must you occupy every day with “home improvement”? Why must you play dreadful dance music too loud whilst having a “party” with your neighbours sat in the garden opposite? Why can’t any of you just for one day, just one day, sit on your arses and appreciate that whilst the world falls to shit around us we can enjoy just a few moments of peace. A few moments not filled with abject terror and horror and YOUR FUCKING LAWNMOWER?
Thing is, I don’t want to seem anti social. Yes, I don’t come out and clap on a Thursday night which I realise makes me a social pariah but I want to belong, I want to feel like one of the people. Tonight at 11:30 I will be mowing my lawn, dressed in Speedo’s, with a stereo blaring Slipknot and Slayer in my garden all the time talking in a too loud voice about things I don’t actually understand. Hopefully this will bring us all closer together as a community.