Lately, as I stay indoors
going through one routine activity after another, I think about the word
“quotidian.”
Every morning, after my
daughter’s daily check-in awakens me, I get up, brush my teeth and have a
shower. I don’t “measure out my life in coffee spoons,” as Eliot’s Prufrock
does, but I do count out my pills each day: one red, one blue, one pink and one
white. I make my toast and tea, wash my hands, and then make a list of the
things I plan to do during the day. It will be a long list with many more
things than I shall check off and, since I continue to self-isolate, they will
all be rather mundane things:
·
Make bed
·
Do laundry
·
Email tax
accountant
·
Clear out
top drawer of filing cabinet?
·
Organize photographs
·
Phone
brother
·
Email
cousin
·
Pick up
fresh vegetables from farm in Yellowpoint
·
Wash hands
·
Make vegetable
broth
·
Take out
garbage, recycling, etc.
·
Sanitize
kitchen counters
·
Email
distillery and order more hand sanitizer… and whisky?
·
Wash hands
·
Read 21
Lessons for the 21st Century
·
Practice
meditation
·
Do
stretching exercises
·
Polish
silver?
·
Walk to
mailbox
·
Wash hands
·
Find out
the name is of the tiny bird that skitters up the trees in the park in front of
my patio
·
Write
letter to London friend
·
Read Tessa
Hadley
·
???
Sometimes I put things on
the list that I have already done, just so I can check them off because it’s
so satisfying to see progress. But, even so, I rarely complete the list.
The quotidian nature of my
days seems appropriate now as well as necessary. The etymology of the word says
it is from the Latin: from quot meaning how many and + dies meaning days. How many days. That’s the question we all ask ourselves: How
many days will this go on?
In his poem, “Days,” Philip
Larkin says, “Days are where we live/They come, they wake us/Time
and time over,” and he asks, “Where can we live but days?”
The definition of quotidian
has to do with the commonplace, the ordinary. It’s about dailiness,
a concept which is becoming of more and more interest to me.
I’ve never liked housework, and I’ve always been a
lazy and negligent housekeeper. I failed Home Economics in junior high school;
in later years, whenever possible, I’ve gone out to restaurants for meals and
hired someone to clean my house. However, since the virus has isolated me, I’ve
taken up cooking and cleaning and, much of the time, I’m actually enjoying
these things. There’s satisfaction in scrubbing and polishing. I don’t think I’ll
ever enjoy vacuuming, but it’s nice to have clean counters. I’ve made rock buns
for the first time in over six decades and have been pleased with the way my
beer bread and rhubarb cake have turned out. Most of my silver is tarnished, but I’m
now looking forward to polishing a silver plate that has been neglected for
years. When it’s finally gleaming, I might set out fresh-baked cookies on it.
“I love the comfort of daily
life’s routines…,” says Elizabeth Strout. “It’s no accident that my favourite
word is ‘quotidian.’”
I’m becoming accustomed to
dailiness, and it’s changing the way I spend my days. I reflect on times
past as I sort through photographs, feeling happy when I can discard all but
the most important or else send them off with a note to people who might like to see them. I write letters. I read recipes and appreciate the farmers who
produce the ingredients for whatever I cook. I spend hours looking at the park across
from me, and am keen to learn the names of the birds I see there.
“The true secret
of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily
life,” said William Morris..
This is a strange time, and
none of us knows what is yet to come. But, while we are shuttered at home during
this pandemic, it gets easier and easier to have a genuine interest in and
appreciation for the daily life that many of us are privileged to enjoy. One
day at a time.
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