No, I haven't taken leave - from work or my senses.

I've decided social distancing might as well flatten two curves at once. The rate-of-infection curve and my belly. And this work-from-home arrangement is helping.

The shelf-strippers, who've made off with all the rice and pasta (mysteriously leaving behind all the good, fresh stuff like fruit and vegetables) have actually done me a huge favour.

I've been forced to park the carbs and get out and walk. And swim. And generally move a lot more than I would at the office.

Work from - and work out at - home. I'm liking it so far.

A high-fibre, high-protein diet has also been imposed because all the bad, yummy stuff has been grabbed.

Cumulative minutes of breakout room downtime with colleagues have been replaced with quick power walks or a fast 50 in the pool.

So, in the midst of a global pandemic, I'm actually feeling physically better than I was before everything went pear-shaped. Trying to see I don't go pear-shaped as well is helping the mental state too.

How long this will last, I don't know.

This week, we're blessed with an Indian summer. Glorious sunny days, warmth and light. It's easy to allow upbeat thoughts. But every morning, the sun's up a little later and a little further north. There's a tiny hint of chill in the air to remind us winter's lurking just around the corner.

Are we in some kind of phony war? It's a misgiving that's teased me from sleep several times this week.

Is this the calm before the storm? It's different to the fire emergency when we played a different waiting game. There are no flames, no choking smoke - you can't look at an app or out the window to see how close the peril has come.

Instead, we see ever grimmer press conferences, live streamed to our smartphones. The tone has changed, the angry emojis are slowly abating. There seems to be less shouting, more listening. Each day, the Prime Minister morphs from daggy dad to someone a lot more serious, someone bearing an enormous burden, someone whose smirk seems to have gone on holiday.

Watching all this unfold from this new work station overlooking the pool and garden, is surreal. For company, I have Jack the retriever, Lizzie the skink who's taken up residence in the house. There are periodic visits from a gang of bowerbirds after Jack's biscuits. Raucous lorrikeets descend from time to time to shatter the peace. These are the new rhythms of the work day.

This is life.

It's beautiful and it's sad. I'm grateful and anxious at the same time. Grateful for what I have. Anxious for all that might be snatched away.

How are you feeling?

john.hanscombe@austcommunitymedia.com.au