No one cares how I feel and nor should they. I deserve no sympathy. I have no right to be upset. We have food, shelter and Disney Plus. There are several billion people around the world worse off than us. Delta or not, we won the lottery being born in New Zealand. So why are we so down? Why is everyone feeling so down?
A psychologist on Kerre McIvor Mornings radio show shared an interesting theory. He reckons our low moods are partially caused by behaviour. Shuffling around the home, not socialising is what depressed people do. Lockdown forces us to act like the miserable, as a result, we feel miserable.
He may have a point there. Then again he may not. He seemed smart but what do I know? Maybe he wasn't a psychologist at all. He may not even exist. He may have been a voice in my head. I've been hearing them a lot lately.
The point is lockdown sucks and being over it doesn't help. If we want to hold it together we have to take charge of our own lives. We have to invent our own fun.
Last Wednesday my son and I put the couch we were sitting on out on the street. We placed a "FREE TO A GOOD HOME" sign on it and sat in the front window, watching, hoping someone would take it. We figured it would go in seconds. It's a newish couch. Anyone would be proud to own it. You would have to be insane to put it on the street for no reason without a replacement.
We imagined a family jumping for joy after finding the couch of their dreams. What we got was a parade of expressionless masked zombies. No one wanted our sofa. An attempt at lockdown fun was turning into yet another low.
I wasn't going to let that happen. This whole thing was being done in the name of mental health after all. So instead of getting down, I signalled for my son to throw another piece of fruit at me. He held up a lighter instead and suggested we set the couch on fire. I was considering this option when a couple of young ladies stopped for a look. You could tell they liked our sofa. They sat on it, laughed, picked it up to see how heavy it was. Then suddenly, they changed their minds and started to walk off. We needed to seal the deal.
I rushed out screaming, "It's really comfy. It's free. Don't go, don't go." Tragically my yelling was all in vain. The pair scampered away down the street terrified.
Crestfallen, I turned to my son for support. He didn't offer any. He was buckled over in the window laughing uncontrollably.
I forgot I was wearing three hats and carrying a baseball bat. He had been pitching bananas at me in the front room while we waited for the couch to go. Fruit Ball we call it. Every hat represents a strike. Miss the banana and you have to take off a hat. No more hats and you're out. If any hats fall off while you're swinging, you are out.
It's not an easy game. A banana thrown at pace is hard to hit. It naturally follows the path of an MLB slider. The game is a massive waste of bananas, you should try it.
Unfortunately, fun as it is, it doesn't help you give away furniture. A masked man wearing multiple hats, running out of the house with a baseball bat screaming, "Take my sofa" can be misinterpreted.
On the plus side, the whole saga really cheered up my boy. We carried the couch back into the house, sat down on it and watched Squid Game. Excellent show. We may be losing our minds but at least we found a little oasis of happiness. Bring on level 2.
