Those who have been able to work from home during the Pandemic have realised the gift of more time as they no longer need to commute to and from their place of work. This can easily add up to a couple hours a day. The question is how are these hours filled? Longer work hours? May be, but early on in the pandemic a survey of almost any grocery store would provide clues: there were shortages of baking goods, especially flour (and toilet paper, but let’s just say that logically follows).
My wife could be an example of how this phenomenon came about. With her time, she started baking, first making baguettes, followed by challah bread, Chinese Milk Buns, ciabatta buns, and most recently focaccia bread.
I’ve followed a different route. I’ve dabbled with a bird feeder, haikus, indoor gardening, photographing fruits and vegetables, and fermenting sauerkraut. Yet, my favourite pass time during the Pandemic has been isolating myself in the basement, a labyrinth of little rooms, passageways and cavernous expanses, replete with wall paintings.
Spending time in this subterranean web has put me in proximity with our storage rooms. For many years, I have been disturbed by the mess of forgotten things they contain. Things never unpacked when we moved to Toronto (1984); things from my brother (1985), my late mother (2000) and my late father (2017). Working through these layers of stuff would be nothing less than a personal archeology. While taking on this task seemed insurmountable, it turns out taken in steps, the task has been manageable.
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