I started writing this yesterday, for some reason compelled to write even though I was in the thick of a terrible cold. Not long afterwards, I took a covid test, and sure enough, that’s what I’ve got.

Looking around, though, it could be so much worse. I’m in a bedroom with a lovely view. It’s a sunny day, and the door to the balcony is open. There’s an attached bathroom here, which means I can brush my teeth and have a shower. My energy levels aren’t terrible right now, and I’ve made my excuses with work and they are very understanding. Even though I’m sick, and would much prefer to be doing something else for the next seven days (NZ rules are still that you have to isolate for that long), the enforced break feels like (a little bit of) a reprieve.

There was a long mental list of things I want to write about, composed in the shower, but a little like dreams, so many of those thoughts drift away like the steam once you turn the water off. There was something about online introversion, and global population and tribes, but they don’t feel particularly urgent, so I’ll let them drift off.

In the meantime, I have a child’s sock to knit, a piece of flash fiction to finish, a CDrama to watch, and the rough start of a game of Starforged that I could pick up and play. I’ve done my korean Duolingo for the day, though I haven’t yet posted my daily photo to micro.blog (I’m aiming for the 30-day photo badge). Or I could just lie here with the door open, the curtain lazily drifting in the sun and the cat on the balcony watching me with half-closed eyes…