There’s just no time to do any work from home

Wednesday, March 25: 2pm. Day before lockdown. Need cheap headphones for home office meetings over next month. Dash to electronics store. $325? Have brainwave and rush to Warehouse. No-one will have thought of that.

4pm: WTF? Thousands queuing outside Warehouse. Some panic-buying Coke! Should be rule where important people like me get preference. I find pair of buds at gas station on way home.

8pm: Last evening of freedom. Ask kids if they want to visit Granny in old people’s home – last chance for a month – or go to McDonald’s. Massive queue of cars outside McDonald’s spills outside on to road. Fire engine with siren on can’t get through. ‘‘Keep your hair on, mate,’’ I tell angry fireman, ‘‘this is a Maccas emergency.’’

Thursday, March 26: 8am. First day of lockdown. At desk in suit and tie, keen to prove I can work at home just as efficiently as at work.

9.01am: Break up argument with kids – who sits closest to Mum during home lessons. Come up with Excel ‘‘sitting next to Mum timetable’’ that would make Metlink proud.

9.30am: Bus goes past with no passengers. Online work meeting goes well, apart from when cat knocks over webcam. My new work nickname is ‘‘Bloody Zoom’’. Could be worse. Warren ‘‘Y Fronts’’ from marketing logged in from lounge with washing in background.

Note to self 1: Do NOT talk about colleagues the minute they’ve left the Zoom meeting. Check they’ve actually disconnected. Will send nice card to Karen from accounts saying I was only joking about tacky painting on her home office wall.

10.30am: Kids working well but I have to judge Lego competition. Six-year-old cries when she loses. Friday, March 27: 9.30am. Casual Friday – tracksuit trousers and Man Utd jersey. Bus goes past, no passengers. Check bank account. Thank you, Uncle Grant! Subsidies for employees all paid. Nine-year-old, and secretary of my company, will get new bike in a month, and 6-year-old, treasurer, will get $2 coin for piggy bank. Accounts work interrupted by kids arguing – Treasurer went into Secretary’s Minecraft world without permission. 1.23pm. Try to work but get into Twitter argument and rest of day is write-off.

Saturday, March 28: 9am. Bus goes past, no passengers. Kids arguing about whose turn it is to hold TV remote. Cold today and we have a food emergency. Pretty sure no other Wellingtonians will be going to Moore Wilson’s on Saturday morning. Neighbour is distraught to learn that Warehouse is closed. He wants to get oil heaters and blankets for kids. I tell him they are non-essential items, unlike the quail eggs, pomegranate molasses, sumac and asafoetida I have on shopping list.

11.34am. Catastrophe! Hardly any pasta on shelves. Had to use orecchiette when recipe specifically says strozzapreti. But we must all make sacrifices to beat this virus. Feeling inspired by Wellington City Council ad in paper this morning. While other councils have medical advice, WCC decides on big ‘‘We are absolutely positively all in this together’’. Then again, using ‘‘positively’’ when discussing Covid-19 is a little tone deaf, though ‘‘Absolutely Negatively Wellington’’ doesn’t quite have the same ring. Kids arguing about who gets to talk to grandparents on phone first.

Sunday, March 29: 3am: Woke up in cold sweat worried about how All Blacks are going to cope with their pay cut.

1pm: Out for beach walk with dog and family. Not cheap at 50 bucks per Karen Walker face mask. Dog ate his but kids adjusting well. Six-year-old reckoned Jacinda told her we shouldn’t drive to beach. Threatened to dob me in. I told her real reason for trip was to drop off treat package to Granny in old folks’ home. Worked a charm – not just with 6-year-old but with cops who stopped us. Monday, March 30: 9am: Big excitement. Bus goes past with four passengers! Told kids that’s cos it’s rush hour. Lots of online congestion though. Kids doing Mathletics homework and partner has online book club meeting.

Note to self 2: Don’t walk past partner’s book club meeting after shower wearing nothing but towel. Note to self 3: Teach dog that walking from shower to bedroom in towel is not a game. Will send card to offended book club members.

11am: Our medical staff, cops and essential workers are heroes. I know because I’ve got a nurse and supermarket worker renting my investment property. It was a real shame refusing their request for a rent decrease because their two flatmates are travel agents, but business is business.

6pm: Knock-off time. Home office timer reveals I have done exactly two hours and 23 minutes’ actual work per day. Not great, but when you take out chatting to colleagues, office shouts, organising leaving cards, needless meetings, pointless teambuilding exercises, and waiting for work IT team to fix computer, I normally only do 1hr 54m a day at work, so I’ve come out ahead.

1.23pm: Try to work but get into Twitter argument and rest of day is write-off.