The thing I find most odd about the strange times we are living through are the infuriating and endless contradictions they throw up.
I can't think of a time in my life when I have slept so long and often, but felt so perpetually listless and drained. There has never been a time when I had the opportunity to do so much but have achieved so little.
Or a period when I ate so much food and tasted next to none of it, or drank so much wine and enjoyed it less.
It is as if we have all been cast in a dystopian movie where everything we took for granted before has been taken away and we've been given license instead to indulge in all the other things our busy lives used to deny us.
It's a morality tale with a twist.
At the start the novelty of that was fine and it got us through. We were all in this together and the crisis would give us, our families and society a chance to reassess a range of core values.
It made a sort of sense too as it had an identifiable beginning, middle and end in the best Hollywood tradition.
In this beginning we had speeches about not all heroes wearing capes and flattening curves.
In the middle, there was the encouraging belief that there was light at the end of this bleak tunnel. We were getting there.
But now the realisation has dawned that the end has been postponed. Not indefinitely perhaps, but certainly pushed back far enough to make the printing of tickets a bit premature.
We got selected parts of our lives back this week, but it is highly likely (OK, certain) that this virus will be lurking among us into the winter and out the other side.
Besides the toll of the disease itself, there are all sorts of social and economic costs we haven't even begun to count and wouldn't know where to start.
In the meantime we sleep and stay tired, find lots of things to do but do none of them and drink copious amounts of wine but stay stubbornly sober. Sigh.
Streaming threatens to wash away TV's last hope
* Bruce Springsteen might have sung about 57 channels with nothing on back in the 1990s, but you could double that today.
I don't know how many stations I have, but a casual surf on any given night would throw up a whole lot of nothing to watch.
The days of tut-tutting about the race to the bottom are long gone. Most television networks cheerfully thrive at those murky depths.
That's not being needlessly snobbish about it because froth and tack have their place too. But not at the expense of everything else.
Persistent rumours that a death notice has been drafted for artsy but accessible BBC4 - one of the few stations that doesn't treat its audience as sub-literates - follows a depressingly familiar pattern.
Television reshaped the post-war world, opening it up and expanding people's horizons while, paradoxically, shrinking the globe at the same time.
It did that primarily by escapism and entertainment, of course, but by its power to influence and educate too.
No single medium ever did as much to recast society, first from a humble black and white box in the corner; latterly via a mega-sized flatscreen beast that dominates the room.
But its power has waned, a victim of a streaming revolution that has sapped its lifeblood.
BBC4, which has only been with us since 2002, is a little reminder of what television could achieve and used to routinely. Watch it while you can.