I have little detailed recollection of this past week. Nothing really stands out about it, other than the fact that it was week #2 of being sick. It’s 2:44 a.m. EST, and though I started out sleeping in my bed, I find myself once again on the couch because I woke up coughing so much I couldn’t stop. Luckily, my sleeping bag and sheet were still downstairs, so I made a quick escape down the stairs with my pillows and cough drops. Made some hot tea, which is sometimes the only thing that can calm this type of episode. And it has.

I am trying to keep my husband, also now sick, and my daughters somehow not really sick, sleeping. It’s not so bad being down here. I’ve slept on the couch since the onslaught of this virus thing. It almost feels like I’m on some kind of work trip. Daycare and short order cook by day, resting in a weird hotel at night. The vaporizer two feet from my head; tea, water, cough drops and tissues on the coffee table in front of the couch. The sick sod’s command center. All I need to complete the picture is a recording device planted in the arm of the couch near my pillows and I’m goddam James T. Kirk. A recording device…. or a laptop. Hmmm.

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