The last time I posted here, I was bitching and moaning about the head cold I picked up. Well, that non-COVID-related illness turned into more than just a head cold, and three four days later, I am just now getting a bit of my mental and physical mojo back. Who would have thought that a bout of COVID would be easier to kick than whatever the hell this is?
The worst part about the crud I picked up—other than the fact I got it days after finally getting my post-COVID sense of smell back— is that it really sapped my energy hard before the cock and balls of the illness even slapped me; I was spending a LOT of time under the covers in bed or just sitting in my comfy chair staring at the televised hellscape of modern life. All of that exhaustion, lack of motivation, and a burgeoning “fuck you and you AND you” attitude made me think that Horace’s black dog had returned and was angry as hell. I won’t argue that I am working overtime to fend off depression and a return to Daddy’s Little Helper, but in this case, I really think it was my body telling me that shit ain’t right, and there’s a nasty crud a-comin’.
Then again, I could be completely wrong, and in a week’s time, I’ll be in Mindbender II’s office gobbling down handfuls of SSRIs like their candy.1
With some slight mental and physical improvements, I headed outside for a walk around with my camera today. We are currently in modern-day central Michigan’s climate change winter cycle of light snow, freezing rain, melting, and freezing. Consequently, the conditions were not ideal, and caution was needed walking on the well-traveled trails of the Sylvan Preserve. Still, I made it through the short hike with no further damage to my physical or mental wellbeing and a handful of photos of random bits of nature.
This whole week has been a shit show, and I am eager to get back to my normal routine. A routine equally regrettable, sad, and pathetic but with way less snot, phlegm, and inactivity.
Later.