The one where she metamorphoses

I've finally figured something out.

Once we started our shut down, with no particular reason to get up in the morning, I was sleeping a lot more. Like, teenager levels of conking out. I'd go to bed at 1:00, wake up at 6:00, decide to try for a little more sleep, and not wake up again until 11:00. And the napping got pretty intense, too.

I started doing yoga every day for Lent (just so you know, the irony of starting a Hindu practice for Lent does not escape me) which means by the time Illinois shut down, I'd been doing yoga every day for almost a month. I felt way more bendy. Sinuous, even.

I found myself playing with makeup, taking long baths, using lotion and powder and generally grooming myself like Cher in Clueless.

And eating, for which I blame my husband, who has been dealing with stress by cooking, baking, cooking, and baking.

A couple of weeks into the stay-at-home order, I realized something. What with 90 percent of my time spent sleeping, stretching, grooming myself, and eating, I had turned into a cat. With opposable thumbs, of course, which is how I managed to type this.