Quarantine diaries: day 2

I've now done a full 24 hours in quarantine. Jetlag kicked in at about 3pm yesterday - put my head down "just for a second" and woke up 2 hours later. But aside from that I am being very virtuous - waking up early, doing two sessions of fitness so I am moving around vigorously for a little while, trying to maintain the different zones in the room (and thanking all that is good in the world constantly for the size of the room I was given), and eating all my allocated food. I don't know if they have been overseen by any kind of nutritionist (I think not based on the fact the only vegetables I got all day yesterday was some very strangely spiced mushy peas with my potato pie for lunch), but I'm willing to give it another day or two before I resort to an emergency grocery shop for, like, a bag of lettuce. 

Granola for breakfasts will hopefully help with operation: lose weight before the sister's wedding. I am craving snacks, but I know this is not a valuable or necessary impulse and so I am putting that feeling in a box, like I do so well, with the knowledge that mum still has a snacks pantry cupboard that will be All Mine when I get out of here. 

I am reassured by the earnestness of the mental health call I got yesterday. The questions were relevant and they said I'll get a check-in call everyday. I've realised that I have no sight of any humans out of my window (weird and unfortunate combination of overlooking next door's roof, and a jumble of buildings at just the wrong angles, combined with tinted windows that also seem like the back sides of neighbouring high rises, means I saw zero humans yesterday). Whoever is delivering the food outside my hotel door is also some kind of knock and run champion, because no matter how fast I move I have yet to catch sight of them. 

It doesn't feel like I am properly in Australia yet. I'm hearing the accent on the radio and TV but it's hardly something I'm interacting with. I haven't felt the weather, or even the sun on my face (again, the unfortunate angle of my room and the building around me). More than even when I was in lockdown in my little flat in England, I'm feeling like I'm in a bubble. At least then I had to go out for groceries once a week, did my (sometimes) daily walks, was able to look out the window and see people on their walks, and had daily news that had a direct impact on what I was doing myself. Here, I go nowhere and see no one. I have no say or prior warning about what I'm eating (I realise how much time I spent planning, cooking and eating meals before), and don't even have the option of opening a window to see what the weather is like. It is all very odd.