I haven't heard much from my inner Manic Hobgoblin of late. He retreated to his luxury bunker in an undisclosed location somewhere in the Southwestern United States of America. Luckily he left me with one tub of sanitizing wipes and about ten rolls of toilet paper. I also found a box of face masks in my painting supplies that he forgot to abscond with when he left at sunrise a few weeks ago. (These face masks are not the N95 kind that should absolutely be donated to health care workers, just the little pleated ear loop kind.)
In absence of Manic Hobgoblin, and under stay home orders from my city, I've been balancing chores with fun homebody activities. Lots of laundry, washing dishes, cleaning out clutter, vacuuming, preparing tax documents, etc, interspersed with lots of reading fiction, playing card games/board games, moving around the giant Easter eggs on my front lawn each day to amuse myself and passers-by, cuddling the pets, watching Netflix, Hulu and YouTube. All this fills my days just fine. I don't need Manic Hobgoblin spinning around my house right now telling me to learn a fifth language or to try every exercise video from the internet. I wish Manic Hobgoblin well in his bunker. Maybe he can stay there permanently.