I finally realized that I am going through a long long recovery time.

I don’t remember going to bed last night. I was asleep before I lay down. I didn’t wake up this morning. I was still deep in my REM, a dream that I didn’t leave, and when I did, suddenly I was here, at home, with no idea how I got here, no memory of a return from New York (in my dream), being with people I know are dead, including my husband.

I’m here now. Almost.

I dozed upright on the sofa most of the afternoon. I finally went swimming in and out of the spa (hot) and the pool (very cool). I took the compost out and checked the mail (nada), loaded the dishwasher and made some dinner—two cobs of corn, not from Ontario, too early for that, but good. And finally realized that I was still recovering.

I forgive me.

Tomorrow I will do better.

Yesterday I had no excuse not to get to work, but I had a slow start. Very lazy.

i finally unpacked and did the laundry and had a little walk, from my end of the building to the entrance, and picked. up the mail, too. I received my notice of assessment re my income tax.

I ate leftovers from the night before—still good, and so was the Beaujolais-Villages.

I finished watching Charlotte. I guess you know it’s a short prequel to Bridgerton. So I got to bed at 11 p.m. instead of 1 a.m. Up at 4 a.m. for my orange and the Sunday NYT which a neighbour took in for me and left at the door for me this morning. i had a nap from 6 to 7, so whey am I sleepy-tired now?

I’m writing this for me, to get me moving. I’ll start on my letters soon. Matt is coming for a swim to see the flowering trees outside the pool and he’ll stay for dinner so I’ll cook something. I think meatloaf.

I’ll think about blog, too.