I continue to generate a little bit of body dysmorphia, hating my stomach and hating the size of my boobs, resulting in an eating disorder. But just a little. I had been coming down with a gross cold for the past two days, and yesterday on my way to a salad bar, I veered into McDonalds, murdering a Chicken burger and small fries: the body was so short on salt, I was starting to get dizzy on top of everything bad I'm feeling (totally stiff shoulders and back, coughing, sneezing, sniffles, headache, acid reflux and peeing all the time.). I test myself twice a day, but I don't have Covid, just a cold. The General, whom I haven't seen since Saturday, as he is self-isolating on the other side of the apartment, does have the 'Rona, and is experiencing a crappy flu. Man flu. It's, like, the worst flu anyone has ever had. 

On the plus news, I've bought myself running shoes. Not sure I ever had running shoes before, always trekking, and they are so fluffy! There was a little bit of a need for practical investigation, as I need a) a super comfy toe box and b) a bouncy sole. And the size needs to be two numbers up. Ironically, the coolest-looking pair, and the most costly, wasn't at all as comfortable as I was expecting it will be. Ultimately the cute colours had to be sacrificed for the practical aspects and, well, now I own a pair of running shoes. All I need now is another two energetic dogs to drag me, as Lyra no longer falls for my promises of dull dry biscuits if she helps me uphill...