The full day on Friday was followed by another one on Saturday. My plan was to spend most of the day on the couch. This was not to be.
Harry had a track meet in Providence, and because he was running early we thought we'd take the chance of going to the arena to watch him. Armed with my arsenal of hand sanitizer, gloves and masks, I was prepared for any foe. It's crazy to live this way. I find myself never making eye contact with people, I run away from children, and compulsively clean my hands while listening for suspicious coughing. My social skills are not what they used to be. Do they come back?
Against my better judgment, Marty and I went out to dinner with friends, another trip to Providence. My heart was in it, but my stomach wasn't. The food was excellent, but I couldn't eat much of it. It took all my strength to keep my head from bobbing.
When we got home, Marty slipped me into bed like a letter into a mail slot. It took me Sunday and part of Monday to return to normal energy levels. Pushing myself is good because in the end, it makes me stronger. Lazing about doing nothing for a day or so after the crash is quite soothing. I have no fixed schedule, so there's no stress involved.
My job is to get stronger, and that's what I'm doing.