Sometime Sunday afternoon, I felt a sudden change in my body and knew I was infected by something. I wasn't sure what, but I knew it was going to affect me a few days.
On Monday, I still had to work. I don't have a normal job where I can take off. I have deadlines almost every single day. Some people don't like the use of the word deadline, but if I miss any, I feel horrible.
And disappoint people.
I got it all done, crashed as soon as I was done.
Overnight yesterday the symptoms got worse. It's just a cold laced with allergies so the windows have to stay shut. There are blooms outside all the accessible windows so fresh air will have to wait.
Yesterday I didn't want to work, either, and I could have gotten away with not doing anything but there was information I wanted to get out. Last week, an elected official said something absolutely incorrect and serendipity got me a story to set the record straight.
Pertained to childcare.
Someone else got stabbed, the kind of story I hate to write but you can't just write the stories you want. Or at least, I can't. So I started work around 1:30 p.m. or so and I got it all done yesterday, and then spent some time working on the business, invoicing one of my sponsors for March.
The money is already in my account.
Today I'm going again writing, and am about halfway through a newsletter. I think the cold is settling in for a few more days and maybe it's COVID but I doubt it but maybe I'll check, given that I have one kit left and why not?
Does anyone remember COVID and how our lives changed? The person who lived in my house got sick from drinking too much alcohol and moved out and never came back. I had COVID once when someone else was here, but I've more or less been alone.
Alone I exist to write and to inform. When I lost my children, there was nothing else in my life I wanted to do so this is likely how it will be until I figure something out, but even when I'm ill, I really love what I do and am grateful that if I sit down and begin to work, I'll produce things that pay the bills, and that's rare.
I'm aware the world is broken and sometimes sick, but I'm also aware that despair hastens the fall. The only thing I can do is find a moment of calm and then get to work on the pathway I decided for myself a long time ago without even knowing.
I'm not a puzzle, and find myself grateful I can likely be home by myself for days more to come, because outside in the real world there is only disappointment.
Me doing the disappointing.
I deserve nothing but the air I breathe as long as the lungs still work.
On Monday, I still had to work. I don't have a normal job where I can take off. I have deadlines almost every single day. Some people don't like the use of the word deadline, but if I miss any, I feel horrible.
And disappoint people.
I got it all done, crashed as soon as I was done.
Overnight yesterday the symptoms got worse. It's just a cold laced with allergies so the windows have to stay shut. There are blooms outside all the accessible windows so fresh air will have to wait.
Yesterday I didn't want to work, either, and I could have gotten away with not doing anything but there was information I wanted to get out. Last week, an elected official said something absolutely incorrect and serendipity got me a story to set the record straight.
Pertained to childcare.
Someone else got stabbed, the kind of story I hate to write but you can't just write the stories you want. Or at least, I can't. So I started work around 1:30 p.m. or so and I got it all done yesterday, and then spent some time working on the business, invoicing one of my sponsors for March.
The money is already in my account.
Today I'm going again writing, and am about halfway through a newsletter. I think the cold is settling in for a few more days and maybe it's COVID but I doubt it but maybe I'll check, given that I have one kit left and why not?
Does anyone remember COVID and how our lives changed? The person who lived in my house got sick from drinking too much alcohol and moved out and never came back. I had COVID once when someone else was here, but I've more or less been alone.
Alone I exist to write and to inform. When I lost my children, there was nothing else in my life I wanted to do so this is likely how it will be until I figure something out, but even when I'm ill, I really love what I do and am grateful that if I sit down and begin to work, I'll produce things that pay the bills, and that's rare.
I'm aware the world is broken and sometimes sick, but I'm also aware that despair hastens the fall. The only thing I can do is find a moment of calm and then get to work on the pathway I decided for myself a long time ago without even knowing.
I'm not a puzzle, and find myself grateful I can likely be home by myself for days more to come, because outside in the real world there is only disappointment.
Me doing the disappointing.
I deserve nothing but the air I breathe as long as the lungs still work.
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