"Many captive chimpanzees (Pan troglodytes) show a variety of serious behavioural abnormalities, some of which have been considered as possible signs of compromised mental health." (https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0020101)
Dear Todd,
It's been 3 weeks in captivity, and I am overrun with gratitude and awe and fear and soap and bottles of wine. As I sit with these things and feelings, I am curious as to the measurable time frame for one's average descent into madness.
Our dog may be leading the charge...
The past few days, I've watched him befriend, and then aggressively lick, our chicken. I wonder how long until he tries to get to the center of that tootsie pop?
Our eldest is trying EVERYTHING to figure out his homework and get it done, other than sitting down and trying to figure out his homework. He just made a random loud sound into the air, and then said, "I wonder if I shout, if it will just get done," and followed it up with a delirious giggle. (I have no words). He is also claiming that based on the latent development of the prefrontal cortex (he was eavesdropping on my homework) that he "has no motivation and it's not his fault." As I write this, I am sitting next to his abandoned textbook. I can hear him yodeling upstairs and wrestling the dog--two things that have never gone together before. Regardless, that kind of dynamic dual activity is exhausting, so he's gonna need a break from his homework.
Our middle child lives in her room. She comes out at night and dances in the living room to Alicia Keys, and then goes back to her room. After she dances we know that another day has come to an end. I'm so thankful for her. She's like our own personal cuckoo clock.
Our youngest has been preparing for this since he was born. Combining his love of archery, gardening, homesteading and parkour, he is ready to volunteer as tribute. Right after he finishes Roblox or Fortnite or Minecraft or Destiny 2...or OMG we're all gonna die.
As adults, the new normal right now is to make sure that before you leave for the grocery store you have your hand sanitizer, your face-mask, and wallet in that order. And then comes the dread of coming home with the groceries. Wiping down boxes and cans. Power-washing produce, and countertops, and hands and then we should probably research an array of good luck superstitions and ancestral curses we can place around ourselves for safety.
Once we have sterilized all that comes from outside of the home, it's time for pajamas again. A luxury we have right now because we weren't motivated enough to get into med school. Lazy prefrontal cortex to the rescue once more.
