Well, if you’ve been reading my blog posts over the past few weeks and been wondering if I might be overextending myself a tad, running myself a bit ragged – your concerns were well founded, Constant Reader. Nearly four years into our never-ending pandemic, I finally came down with a case of covid. Did I catch it while out in the Hamptons, or at some point commuting here in the city? Alas, it’s hard to say. It was almost hard to realize what was going on – last weekend was rainy, and much colder than it had been, and when I started feeling unwell early on Tuesday morning I assumed the weather was aggravating my sinuses – until a rapid test informed me that no, it was something else.
It’s been almost a week and I’m feeling much better, though as of this writing I’m still on the mend. As a result, though, as of this writing I have nothing else to write about. There’s plenty going on, of course – the WGA strike ended! Huzzah! – but given my situation I’ve barely noticed. Remote work, sleep, and chicken soup – that’s been the sum total of my life over the past week. (I did get to set aside three hours to finally watch The Wolf of Wall Street on Netflix, so I can recommend you do that as well, but you probably already knew that Scorsese movies were at least interesting.) And frankly, given that my eyes are still stinging a bit as I stare at my laptop monitor, I don’t particularly want to force myself.
So that’s it – I’ll be taking a sick day today. Those of you not convalescing, please enjoy a nice day outside! (Which is a rarity these days – last week was so brutally rainy that the resulting flooding enabled Central Park sea lions to swim out of their enclosures – but I digress. I do that a lot these days. Must be the damn covid.)