Day Seven

What began as a flu has morphed into a standard cold. Yet – what can one deem as “standard” in this age of super viruses? But I digress. My socks are sticky with cough syrup, tea bags are strewn across countertops, and the garbage is heavy with tissue bombs. I do not know yet if this is evidence of a successful or failed mission.

I have emerged from the bunker of my sick nest for momentary gulps of fresh air. I delight in the fact that the weather has agreed with my status and the sky has stayed interminably grey. I believe it has begun to rain.

Having come this far, I am nearing the end of free Hulu documentaries of the kind I would watch. I subscribed to several YouTube channels. Alas. It hurts to laugh. I await my turn at Scrabble.

If you are reading this, please know I have heeded your advice to “drink plenty of liquids” and “rest.” I am currently at work on that list of things that begins with, “When I am well again, I will dot dot dot.”

With a roll of toilet paper by my side, a water glass waiting to be refilled, and a cup of tea – I soldier on.

I take great comfort in those who have come before me and survived.