My life up here never fails to surprise me or show me things I cannot explain.

This morning, tired and foggy head, I wrote for a few hours, then took a break and went out to my garden bed. Covid does not support sleeping.

It seems I have a new friend. I called him  Julius, after my father. We were not close, but he was a good man who did his best, and I think the name has character. Julius showed up the other day, I think. He followed me around the garden for a few minutes and then sailed away.

Today, if that’s who it was, Julius came flying out to greet me in the herky-jerky, dizzying way. I was surprised. He seemed curious about me and flew around my head, then landed on a Zinnia just a few inches from my face. I pointed the camera at him,  expecting him to flee.

He came so close I almost swatted at him but caught myself. Maybe he wants to be a friend, I wondered. If I were Maria, they’d be having lunch by now.

But he didn’t get too close; he soaked up some pollen and followed me to the next flower I was photographing, a Zinnia, then a purple flower. Then he followed me to one of the nasturtiums. He came over to every flower. I pointed the camera at him, and he moved when and where I moved.

It felt like we were becoming friends. Could he possibly think I was a big pink butterfly?

“Are you following me, Jules?” I asked, now very curious. Something was happening here. Maybe he sensed I was sick, picked up some smell, or considered my halting movements.

I edged closer to him with the camera; he didn’t budge. It was almost like he was posing. I thanked him for being so cooperative. I wondered if I might be dreaming again; I didn’t have any NyQuil last night or today.

 

 

Maria and I have had only two squabbles since we got sick, and we think that’s pretty good. One was a snarl, the other angrier and longer. When we argue, we separate for a while until we quiet down, then we talk it out – we always talk it out when we are calm, not angry. We always work it out.

I don’t love arguments, but I see them as flushing the toilet regarding relationships. Sometimes, you have to get it out of the system. We don’t let things build up, and we enjoy each other’s company, even under less than perfect conditions. We are both dragging our asses around the house.

Last night, our friend Ian McRae, the poet/shearer, snuck up to the house and dropped some bread, cheese, and soup. We were thrilled to get it; both of us are just worn out in the late afternoon, and he spared us having to cook. We also got breakfast out of it; Ian is the real deal, a sweet young man and a gifted poet.

His planned reading is coming up soon..

Maria and I have both been together and pretty sick for more than a week; my parents would have murdered each other in that situation. We talk, help, and ask each other how they are 100 times a day and take turns doing chores and dishes.

We are both much better but still sick. We exhaust quickly, and our heads both feel scrambled at times. I can write a lot in the morning but have to lie down for a while after lunch. Maria’s quarantine ended today; mine ends on Friday. I walk around in a T-shirt and shorts, no socks or shoes all day.

Mostly the coughing is gone, but there are still some sudden coughing fits.

I take short walks twice daily and walk around the house to keep moving. I feel like my body is trying to clear the virus out, and I’m helping it by taking no medications at all except my heart medications and the anti-viral pills.

Even with the sleep apnea mask, I can’t sleep for too long.

And I can’t sleep at all during the day, not even naps. I have no sense of taste at all. The fatigue is one of the most striking features of Covid. I just have to rest a lot; I get that. Much of the time, it feels like my head is full of sand.  Even Maria is resting a lot, and that is unprecedented, as the cable news people love to say.

I have some energy in the morning, but now, it’s just gone.

There is no doubt that we are getting better, a little bit every day.

That is what matters. We see this is not the little Covid everybody is getting, but the big one. You always have to be different, says a friend.

I’m not sure what the meaning of the butterfly is, but I’ll take it as a good omen. A fairy might be coming down to tell me I’ll be fine soon. I like that idea.

Sick time book report: I finished The Angels Of Rome, a short story collection by Jess Walter. It is one of the best short story books I’ve ever read, funny, surprising, moving poignant. Every story is a jewel. I recommend it highly. I’ll be ordering his first novel and working my way back.

Two emergency reading books arrived today.

A fun new mystery series, The Bangalore Detectives Club, by Harini Nagendra, is a gentle mystery set in India, perfect for now and full of atmospheric details about that fascinating country.

One chapter in, I like it a lot, the perfect summer/sick mystery. I also ordered The Sweet Goodbye by Ron  Corbett, a Danny Barrett mystery/thriller. I know nothing much about it except its hero, an FBI agent sent into the deep Maine woods on a dangerous undercover mission.

It sounds like a meaty old fashioned thriller.

On the way are Watchers Of Time,  an Ian Rutledge mystery by Charles Todd, and Ruth Rendell’s mystery, Adam and Eve and Pinch Me. Rendell is one of the best.

Those books ought to hold me through Covid and recovery. I can zoom through them when I’m sick.

I got Maria a perfect Maria book, the much praised An Immense World, by Ed Young, How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us. I had to get it, but I will be hearing about it every morning first thing for months.

Time to rest. I’m done for today.  See you tomorrow. Thanks for the nice messages.