That awkward moment when you are supposed to flourish after a lovely holiday, but are instead lying in bed with a powerful headache and weakness in all joints.
Covid status: checked (I’m negative: no temperature—at least, for now, no change in smell and taste either*).
Procrastination level: are you bloody kidding me.
Took paracetamol and hope for a better tomorrow.
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* the iPad politely offered “euthanasia” instead: rather not, however
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