Actually, Lucifer wants his bed back.
He's been checking up on me. (He's a lovely boy)
I've barely left bed or the couch. It's not the cough. It's not the headache. It's not the all over aches and pains. It's not the slightly queasy stomach or bout of the runs.
It's the abject exhaustion that COVID supplies.
It's fucked.
The antivirals were started today. Here's hoping they sort this out.
In the meantime, I'm going back to bed, wrangling the bed back from the big black critter with the big eyes - who is being a gem. My friends are being wonderful with offers of help too. And I thank them for it.
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