Temperature: 37.5/99.5 degrees, a low-grade fever then. Outside, -5/23 degrees with snow and some more snow on the way. Not complaining, this is infinitely better than the slush that’s ever more prevalent.
Drinking: Can someone send me some Harney & Sons? Emerald Isles, please. Or just some Citrus Green. Cherry Blossom? Pointless, costly, ill-advised Brexit.
Eating: I don’t feel like eating, I feel like putting the kettle on and burrowing under the covers.
Watching: Is anyone genuinely excited about the Olympics? It must be super stressful for the athletes to be monitored so closely, and to have to fear a positive PCR test, all your hard work going to waste, then having to give your life over to local authorities. Happy Lunar New Year all the same. Year of the tiger, I hear. Chloe the cat approves.
Listening: to this year’s enredos and Scandinavian Eurovision hopefuls. There’s always something fun and surprising in there.
Reading: QualityLand by Marc-Uwe Kling, available in several languages.
Writing: in the epistolary form is not dead, Vladimir Vladimirovich has been busy at it to everyone’s apprehension and annoyance, which is always the point, but do write back to tell him that no one is coming at you, just check your borders, and then let’s see where the buildup is.
Thinking: Pointless, costly, ill-advised. See above.
Feeling: under the weather. There is no escaping a winter cold, you have got to catch one at least once. #TGIF
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