I am sick today and struggling to get things done. My symptoms are Covid-like, mainly I am nauseous. I alternate between denying that I’m ill and doing what needs to be done and acknowledging that I am ill and lying down. That I am writing this dispatch is a form of denial.

I’m just not used to being ill.

The day started with me going to the Park and Ride site and finally realizing that I was wrong about the day that Milena and I were to go to Anchorage. I felt a little off, as was verified by the fact that I nearly got into an accident with another vehicle in the roundabout. I hate roundabouts, and I avoid them when I can. There is no avoiding this one.

I got home and felt queasy. I laid down for a while and then got up and took the dogs out on the trail. It’s excellent for walking right now. Emboldened, I took Hrimmi for a short walk and discovered that the trail is too punchy for a horse. I did take her for a walk around the loop – it was slow going for me, but less so for her because she has ice shoes. It was sheet ice. No graders or sand trucks had of yet been by.

Taking the horses out was a no go, so I instead brushed them all. I came inside and worked on an article for a bit. Then the nausea came on really strong. I laid down again.

I seemed to have enough energy in which to have the will to get things done, but not the energy to get things done. It’s the ultimate liminal space.

I did have the time (and I was grateful for this) to think about many things, something that has eluded my grasp as I’ve become increasingly more busy working on book project stuff. This was time to think about mundane matters.

One such thing. Yesterday, in the mail I received a complementary pen that says on the side Bright Lights Book Project, with an accompanying address. It was grey, with metal trim, and had grippy material in the middle. It came with a clip, and the cartridge could be retracted into the barrel. I thought, great, finally Bright Lights Book Project swag.

A form came with the pen, so if I wanted to, I could order more writing implements. They were a steal at 69 cents each, so I briefly considered ordering more. That is until I sat down and attempted to hand write the first draft of an article, one about the importance of stories.

I was disappointed. The pen seemed to run low on ink – the only way to describe the print was skippy.

I then realized, of course, that ordering more pens counters the whole premise behind the Bright Lights Book Project, with its attendant focus on reuse. Pens, like books, are in abundance. Both are everywhere and we don’t need to be making and purchasing more.

I suppose that even if my day had gone as planned, I would have come to this realization, but not as soon as I might have otherwise.

Next: 81. 3/24/22: Expressing Gratitude