When I’m a bit stressed, I comfort eat. The normal sort of stuff: cake, biscuits, cake, cake and cake. When I’m really stressed, I completely lose my appetite.  Combine really stressed with very busy and it’s a recipe for an enforced diet. The photo above is tonight’s dinner, all I had the energy to sort out by the time I’d finished with the rabbits after work.  I did supplement it with a giant bowl of raspberry sorbet and a glass of sauvignon blanc.

Everything takes 5 times as long when you’re treating one group of rabbits as infected and all the other rabbits as at risk of infection.  Changing clothes, changing shoes, contact time for disinfectant, burning waste, cleaning out, feeding, medicating. Feeling really guilty that the really human-orientated single rabbit down the garden just isn’t getting enough attention, as I’m terrified that I will have virus particles on me.  Feeling stressed that I’m probably marching the virus all around the house without realising it. Worrying that I may not have contained all the litter from the infected group as I took it down the garden to the incinerator bin (which I bought specifically for the purpose) and may have missed a few bits when tipping it into the incinerator. Feeling helpless because I don’t live in a stainless steel bubble with perfect disinfection options for anything and everything. Paranoia, even though I’m not normally a paranoid person.  A combination of stress and lack of time means that my waistline is starting to diminish. In itself, that’s probably not a bad thing, but I wish the circumstances weren’t the thing that has caused it.



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