Just Another Day

Damn.

Y’all wasn’t playin. About just walking into 2022 quietly. Sitting down. And not touching nothin.

Usually I wake up to a flood of happy new year messages and texts and snaps and voicemails.

And yes. I wake up to them.

Y’all know I’m not staying up till midnight willingly. For any reason.

Except to pace GJB in an ultra.

And then I’m only staying awake long enough for him to call and tell me I don’t need to go.

I do appreciate that we all seem to be getting on the same “just another day” page with this stuff.

Either that, or y’all just done with me, specifically. And only wishing each other happy new shit.

Whatever.

You know what.

I don’t even care if it’s that second one.

Because for the first time in days. I feel…human?

Got an early morning text from Beautiful Beastie. Telling me to grab some coffee. And get over to the Star.

So I did.

Masked up.

Drove past all the runners.

Parked at the Discovery Center.

And walked my infected self 20 yards. To the Star.

Where I required some recovery time.

Because I can not breathe.

Maintained my mask.

And distance.

I will not be touching people.

Dru Hill. My new national treasure. Since the loss of Betty White. Tried to hug me.

No.

I will not be responsible for taking out another one.

Because did you know. That fucking omicron shit. Has the same fucking symptoms. As a sinus infection? Without the loss of taste. Or smell?

According to some people.

But also not others.

The fuck.

So who knows what in hell is happening inside of my body.

But it’s also the first day of our Mile A Day Month.

So I got an ultra pace mile in. With BB. And Tiny Brazilian. And Fall Risk.

Then BB sent me on my way. To buy meds. That contain guano. Or glucose. Or garrison keillor. Or some shit.

I remembered the word for as long as I needed to.

And now that I have the actual med. That word is released from my vocabulary.

But it’s fucking magical.

Because I don’t know where the mucous is going.

It hasn’t actually started coming out yet.

But it’s also not just lingering in every inch of sinus cavity I own.

So I managed a 50 minute Heather HIIT workout when I got home.

I mean, barely. With a lot of whining. And some very light weights.

But I did it.

Because it’s also the first day of that bullshit challenge that Rogue is making us do.

(It’s not actually bullshit. I love Heather HIIT. And Rogue. But I am still sick. So everything is equal parts good and bullshit.)

Cleaned the apartment.

And showered.

Washed my hair.

And even put on a real shirt. In case Ghost FaceTimes me.

I want zero judgement out of you people today.

So I feel ok about returning to my spot on the couch. With my books. And pretending that things are just normal. And good.

And the fact that it’s 70 degrees outside.

On January 1st.

Is totally ok…

I’m sure it’s fine.

Everything’s totally fine.

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