I ended 2020 with Long Covid, a Staph infection on my face (that’s right ladies and gentlemen), and a concussion. (A window fell on my head. That’s not a metaphor. That’s classic 2020.)
What this means is that I started 2021 with extreme fatigue, constant headaches, random fevers, and an attitude that it would be benevolent to label ‘irritable.’
I started the year living in the studio behind my sister’s house. Seemed the perfect way to be cared for: they cooked me meals, gave me space, did my laundry. The one unforeseen complication is that I’m sort of obsessed with my nieces (aged 4 &1). It’s hard to prioritize laying in bed when a glorious little red-head asks you if you will come to her tea party and another glorious little red-head squeals when you accept the invitation.