Today is day 6-7 of having covid and I’m so bored of it. It’s all travelled up into my head and firmly settled inside both my ears and up my nose.
Typically today has been gorgeous all day. It felt like the first day of spring. It’s 5.30pm and the sky is still a beautiful pale blue. The sun is leaving the garden. We have primroses and daffodils and other things that I have no idea what they are pushing through the soil. I’ve managed about 45 minutes of weeding and have planted some poppy, aubergine and radish seeds, some of which will hopefully enjoy living in my new mini green house (that my other half put together for me because I didn’t have the energy). Other than that I’ve eaten sausage sandwiches (that I didn’t cook), dropped and picked P up from drama (which involved me turning up an hour early to collect her and overshooting my drive on the way back, just in case you wanted evidence of Covid brain fog), and erm, not a lot else. I read some of my book in a car park but my mind was wandering all over the place.
It’s not the weekend I wanted obviously. A long walk and a pint in a beer garden would have been on my wish list today; or the digging and planting we have plans for in the garden; or to cook dinner for friends – but sometimes you have to take it steady. In a few days things will be back to normal and I can start to enjoy the new shoots of positivity as well as the new shoots of tulips.