Collapsed on the Couch

Somewhere under the blanket are my poor little legs

21,000 steps today. Oh, my gosh. So exhausted.

I fear tomorrow will be the same.

Except for all the fun and games of covering a portion of the production floor—on foot—without my usual partner in crime, it was still a pretty good day.

I saw E (I’m just going to call him E from now on. I don’t talk enough about the other E to have to differentiate between them. The other E can be OE or DE or WHE or something. This might be the longest parenthetical in the world.) 2 1/2 times today.

The half is because I might’ve passed him on the production floor this afternoon and accidentally ignorez-vous-ed him. It might’ve been him in my periphery, but when I turned to look he was already gone.

I don’t think it was him, though, upon further reflection. He had a beige, kinda heathery sweater on today; not a black shirt.

He or whoever buys his clothes has good taste. Weirdly similar to my taste in men’s clothes. But I digress.

Probably if it was him, though, he would’ve poked me until he got my attention. No, not really. But he probably would’ve said something.

I think COVID is spreading again at work. Some people are wearing masks. I guess. What can you do?

But I don’t want it. I don’t want to be out a whole extra week over and above the two recovery weeks from the surgery I’m almost certainly going to need.

Anyway, I should get going. I have a lot of not doing anything to do.

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