My feet are cold and I have wool socks on.  On the side of the socks it says SmartWool. I am down and want to say something sarcastic or clever or ironic about the socks, but I cannot come up with anything.  My mind is overwhelmed with a clammy mental fog.

I go outside.  I get on my mountain bike and let the dog chase me up and down the street.  He runs beside me and I slow down just to watch him run because he is so happy when he is doing this.  We get back and I slow up in the driveway.  It is cool and dark and the dog just wants to be with me , but I am down and don’t wanna go in.   I sit on my bike and try to relax my breath and balance the bike with me on it.  It teeters from left to right slowly, and for a moment I achieve balance.  I let the bike coast backward for a meter or so and then forward.

I get off the bike and park it.  I go back out and stand in the driveway and look up at the stars.  They sparkle up there in the depthless India ink sky but I cannot look at them too long.   I am anxious and my chest heaves as I puff out a few sharp breaths.

Unsettled I come in to the house.  Everything is a distraction and the mind is restless. I am nauseous and cannot shake it.   A trip to the toilet eases the nausea a bit and I do my evening chores.  Doors get closed and locked.  Water bowl gets filled.  Fish is still alive and gets fed.  Dehumidifier gets emptied.  Paint brushes get put away. Teeth get brushed. Pour a glass of water, find the right shirt for bed, put on the robe.

How many times have I been sick in this robe?  It has been a lot.  this robe was on me throughout my entire bout of pneumonia it seems.

I am in a malaise.

I am sick of whining about it.

I have used ‘I ‘ twenty four times now.   “My” seven times  “Me” five times.  This makes a total of thirty six  self-referential pronouns in a very short space.