Woke up wondering if I'm ever going to be well again. Relived Moby's last minutes, and wept a bit. But then I've been breaking out in sobs a lot recently, not always with a specific reason. Grief/exhaustion/virus crying. Best not to be at work for this.
Chatted with neighbor this morning, too. He's worried about the world, as am I, so we consoled each other. I petted Spike - his silver schnauzer-mix-rescue, which is always a happy for both of us.
Feeling the fatalism, twenty or so more years, which is too much, not enough, how can I go on that much longer, let it not be that long, oh no not that little left...
It's the fatigue talking, I know.