Looks like that brush with Covid will have some consequences after all. As for the illness itself, I didn't even feel it. In fact, I don't even know WHEN I had it - just before G or just after. The tests showed hints of infection, but I didn't even sneeze. 

       And yet ... two weeks later, I am still so tired. My muscles feel like old chewed-up spat-out gum. I am sleepy, uninspired, I need red bull just to gain the ambition to work. I go jogging every day, but every day it's like beating a dead horse. When I eat chocolate, it tastes like someone who was a smoker kept it in their hand for a while. When I drink my cocoa, it tastes spoilt. Most of everything else, it tastes like ghosts, like hints of flavor and fragrance. I can tell it's there, but through a thin foil. 

       Body, buddy, snap out of it. It's almost April. I need to get my mojo on. I want to jog and feel jumpy. For the first time in ages I saw my reflection in a store window and thought: whoa, okay, I actually have really good legs! I need to be ready for the puppy. Two more months and we should be getting it, love love love