6am mornings, freshly brewed coffee, cool balcony breeze.
Homemade meals, wine, double espresso by the balcony.
Welcome to a day in the life of Adam Lee.
The last two weeks of semi-lockdown in Singapore had been such a joy for an introvert like me.
To slash the rate of COVID transmission here, our government decided to ban outdoor dining and restrict the number of people going out to two.
I immediately relished the idea of staying home, secretly happy that I didn't have to go out to meet friends and entertain their complaints that they hadn't seen me since my return to Singapore!
I was also quite happy that I could use this excuse to tell the sometimes overbearing Mrs Lee that it's for your own good that I'm not coming back for weekend dinners.
This, however, didn't stop my mum from sharing a minimum of 6 videos a day, all related to COVID-19.
The only downfall is that I don't get to meet J as much as I'd like to, but frankly, for a couple who's been together for nearly 2 decades, two weeks of not meeting isn't the end of the world.
And so I began to live in my own happy world for the next two weeks.
Every morning, I'd continue to wake up at 6am (yes, Adam is one of those disgusting morning persons).
By 6.30am, I'd be at my laptop, labouring over any work-related task.
My partner J used to say that if you spend the first 30 minutes of your day on a task, the rest of the day will naturally be productive.
My sex bunny friend Stanley buys this theory.
Thirty minutes of thrusting, sweating, panting and climaxing will surely be productive to the nation's birth rates, provided both the producers are of the correct sex.
By 9am, before everyone else in my firm wakes up to make me sigh, I log off and go for a very sweaty run, along the rail corridor.
And on days when I'm feeling extra lazy, instead of continuing to work, I sit and write blog pieces before lunch (12pm sharp -- I have recently discovered that intermittent fasting works for me!).
Cooking has always been a therapeutic activity for me so I let my creativity do the talking.
On some days, I recreate salad dressings stolen from Nigella Lawson. Other days, I take a can of "five spice pork", dump into the wok onion, garlic and a handful of fusilli to whip up my version of Aglio Olio.
It's empowering when you're the one deciding what you want to eat, and put in actual effort in doing so.
And between lunch and dinner (which must end at 8pm sharp!), I do more work, often in a corner of my place where I mentally psych myself up to recognise that this would be my productive zone.
Stanley my sex bunny friend takes issue with the term productive zone, arguing that it sounds very provocative.
Our dense friend Carl's productive zone is his large balcony, where he spends one-third of his days producing muscles via home workout videos.
By 9pm, when I'm done talking to my loved ones on WhatsApp, I crawl into bed with a very good book (I'm currently reading School of Good and Evil) and sleep by 11pm so that I get the full benefits of a 7-hour sleep.
"I can't wait for this to end," Carl said with a pout over video call the other evening, absolutely horrified that I'm actually enjoying semi-lockdown.
"My poor muscles are deflating without the gym!"
"Oh hunny, trust me," Stanley chimed in.
"This semi-lockdown is getting to me too, and quite frankly, it's not just my muscles that remain deflated," the sex bunny said seriously.
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