Trapped in the Twilight Zone

 

Waking late, the clock tells me it is 9:15 though the light from the window says, dull, grey and 7:15. Not sure which to believe. The house is eerily quiet, heavy with the absence of wife (off shopping) and my brain is certainly not in gear yet as I shuffle into the living room. 

Apparently, Christchurch has had an earthquake (sheesh, didn't we already do that one?) and Facebook is showing me a twenty-year-old picture of my sister and niece, along with a whole bunch of other stuff that I'm sure I have seen before. Perhaps I've entered a time-warp. 

The news is no help either. The UK is in lockdown (been there, done that) and the US still can't decide between Sleepy and Grumpy (If only they could find the other five dwarves they might have a real choice). So, no help there. New Zealand has never felt so sane. 

I decide to cook breakfast, open the dishwasher to retrieve a plate, only to discover that everything is still dirty (I usually put it on before going to bed). Then there's my foot; incrementally better, but still swollen and confining me to another day of hobbling indoor existence, sans footwear. 

Groundhog day? Timewarp? Twilight Zone? Or perhaps I've started to crack and am going slightly doolally. But then, you knew that, didn't you? Hello, is anyone there?