Being an accounting of the recent and continuing pandemic and its various circumstances, from the perspective of an inhabitant of the regions lately called the Lost Quarter. Dates unknown.

Day Two Hundred Fifty Nine

This past week I have been feeling overwhelmed by my correspondences, the work seeming to multiply exponentially like the grippe reborn’s allies. I woke up this morning and even before the fog of sleep had evaporated from my thoughts I was already going over all I needed to get done today and wondering how I would possibly do it. At least it is a distraction from being overwhelmed by the grippe reborn’s steady march.

The walk with my love in the morning darkness helped to distract from all these intruding, worrying thoughts. By the time I returned home I felt awake and energized, ready to face the day. Of course by the time I sat down to my correspondences more had arrived and the work I needed to get done was overtaken by other more urgent tasks.

The whole morning has felt off kilter as a result. I am rushing so that I am only behind, not lost entirely. The sense that things may slip completely beyond my control continues to build, a thought in my head that I cannot entirely shake.