Yesterday I actually managed to do all of the things I hoped to do: phone meeting, groceries, editing, contest reading, plus some basic house stuff. I did lie down a few times in the midst, just to un-fuzz my brain, but basically it was a regular day.

Next week will be my first return to the Monson classroom, and I'm hoping I'll be ready for all of those hours on my feet, plus the long drive home. I think I will. I do feel as if I'm making progress, and I'm sure you're sick to death of my maundering. But the fact is that Covid convalescence is currently the subject of my life, and it is shadowing everything else. I still can't tell when the shadow will fully dissipate.

So today I'll do my exercise class. I'll finish working on contest poems, and I'll think about my syllabus for next week, and I'll attack another chunk of editing. Undoubtedly I'll also stand around stupidly and probably I'll lie down and stare at my phone.

I've been reading Javier Marias's novel Thus Bad Begins, which is gorgeous and ominous, though I feel slightly too dumb for it right now. I finished Eliot's Four Quartets, and I also felt too dumb for them, but Eliot evokes that sensation on purpose.

Reminder to self: do not act like Eliot.