I thought maybe this would be the morning I woke without a fever, but apparently not. I have so rarely run temperatures in my life, and that has been the strangest thing about Covid: the cycle of recurring fevers, tamping them down with Tylenol, then feeling them spike again. They've also contributed to notably strange dreams--one in which I was trying to figure out how much to charge people for my coughs, another in which I was organizing my headache into pigeonholes on a desk.

Everything is exhausting, but doing nothing is so dull. I've been able to work for a few hours each morning, but then my attention fractures, and all I can do is languidly watch movies, which itself has become exhausting. I've made dinner every night, I picked beans yesterday, I even did a little watering, but each chore requires significant preparation: timing the fever medicine, resting beforehand, making sure I don't put too much pressure on myself. I'd like to think I could clean the bathrooms today, following that pattern, though I don't yet feel strong enough to drag the vacuum cleaner around.

Tom, however, is much better and is hoping to finally test negative today.