Day t+8 of the COVID19 quarantine.
Real estate in Monterey, CA, is at a premium; ergo most houses are small in square footage. Normally, this isn’t a problem for me because I don’t spend a lot of time in my house.
These aren’t normal times, just in case anybody reading this is coming out of a cryonic stasis aka cryosleep.
It’s also been cold and rainy the past week, which makes getting outside and enjoying nature more difficult. Apparently, Lyle brought the rain with him when he left Arkansas.
Rain means blooming plants, none of which grow in Louisiana. So, of course, I’m allergic. I wake up every morning with a head full of snot, a tickle in the back of my throat, and wonder if I’ve got it.
This is the BIG ONE, Elizabeth! credit: Sanford & Son
This hyper-awareness is the worst part. Analyzing every minute twitch and twinge and thinking that I’m just a week away from dying of suffocation.
Productivity is down and pounds are up. Lose/lose/lose.
I’ve read some POW stories, and apparently the space inside my head is more important than the space around me. If I can figure out the best way for ME to keep it clear, then I’ll win this war.
Here’s to having the strength to make good choices.