Training over… now for lunch. 

Company Door Dash gift, ordered from Skillets here in Windsor, a place my kids and I used to frequent quite a bit back in the day.  Figured out a couple tech issues on my own, which somewhat shocked me considering how still not-100% I feel.

Feeling much better though, I have to say being in this office and at the desk.

Cold, turning on heater.  PEACE in this loft office.  Waiting for brunch, collecting thoughts, looking at attachments sent over in email…. Think order just arrived.


2:18 good bit of time after lunch and the exhaustion creeps on me.  Sipping Diet Coke hoping to thwart it, but it’s not doing much.  Haven’t been outside since…. Well technically since Katie dropped off everything yesterday, was just on patio.  Want to check mail, get some air…. Thoughts everywhere, can barely contain them.

4:31 having some technical issues, thought I could solve on my own but I’m surrendering.  I’m done.  Calling it.  Covid symptoms retreating, hoping by some godly grace I test negative tomorrow but I doubt that’ll happen.  What do I do now…. Not much to write or report, just. My frustration with this email and Teams issue.  I’ll get it resolved tomorrow.  Keep forgetting today’s the first day.

Waking early and getting on the phone with IT, making it all get resolved.

Nothing to write, starting to feel a bit tired.  Almost time for the news.  The news and some juice.  Not ready for wine yet, or beer.  Yawned again, and I’m sure you are too.  See? Goddamn covid, making my entries even more bland.



Watching world news.  Still feel that obsessive shape in thinking, unavoidable.  And my attention is shit.  One thing then another, then another, fantasizing when I can have a glass of wine, and I’m like FUCK COVID.  No the wine, not at all… that is cut my time short with my babies.  I’ll never forgive this devil virus.  Calming, still obsessing over the IT impasse with the company.  Have to lat it go, like Dad once said in reference to something completely different.

Dad, his writing… speaking to me.  Challenging this new now covid-composed Mike Madigan to post everything to blog.  Elaborate late, in whatever book or whatever.

x tells me she doesn’t feel good now.  What reaction does she expect.

Tough shit.  Pretty sure that was expected, so I said it.

Feel myself collecting and compiling and emboldening in character and composition from this covid intersection.  But then I feel tired, rub eyes, miss my parents and sister, Ms. Kerri…. Wrote first haiku in my new 1000 project, first in days.  Again, fuck covid.  Wondering if I got it at the Garza concert.  Who cares, doesn’t matter.

This company has me more health intended, with all its wellness challenges.  No energy for a run, not yet, so thinking of waking early and going for a walk like my mother-in-law, or ex’.  She I think walks every morning.  EVERY, morning.  No matter what skirmish or hostility still breeds, I can only say that’s something to mimic.  And maybe I will tomorrow.