Sniffy Interlude

 I was finally settling down to write a bit about my Road Scholar tour, but am pausing for a moment to feel just a little sorry for myself.

I got sick this week - possibly from being around so many people last week on the tour when I haven't been around people much at all for the last three years.  Three years of isolation will play hob with the immune system.

I wasn't badly sick (covid test was negative).  Low grade fever, sore muscles, really low energy, shivered for two day no matter how I bundled up (tank top, T-shirt, sweatshirt and hoodie).  Enough that I had to skip work on Wednesday, which made me feel bad because I was off last week and plan on taking the 29th off (because I know I'll be a basket case and I don't even want to try to Put On A Brave Front).  I used to be so reliable at work and I've missed a lot so far in 2023.

And just sick enough to remember a time in my life - most of my adult life, really - where if I was sick like this, Bob would bring me a bowl of soup, and take care of feeding the cats and the chickens and locking said chickens up at night.  I could just languish on the couch.

Now I make my own damned soup, and drag my low - energy arse out to care for the chickens.  As a friend of mine once observed: "Widowhood sucks."

So as not to end on an entirely low note, the nest in Bob's hat now has five wee eggs in it.