One diabolically cruel side-effect of this last illness is that terrible. I normally drink two pots of so of coffee, black and unadorned, every day, so I'm struggling a little bit. What normally tastes bitter and rich and bracing to me now has a salty metallic flavor. I can force myself to drink it just to avoid the very really and extremely painful withdrawal headache, but I can't enjoy it.
This isn't doing my mood or my energy levels any good.
In addition, I'm having a horrible time concentrating on any one thing in particular. Simple tasks feel insurmountable and frustrating. I always forget that the transition from "sick" to "well" is a mental as well as physical one, and the mental side is taking its own sweet time. I have just enough in the tank to get through work, but I'm pretty dull outside those hours.
On the plus side, we found yet another city park which afforded us the illusion of being completely removed from the city itself. When the little piece of fluff between my ears isn't working properly, there are few things that do me more good than going for a walk. There's no magic to it; it's just a matter of having fewer distractions, allowing your brain to chew on whatever it needs to at a more leisurely pace. Or something like that. Maybe it's just pretty and the sun and air make me feel better. That would be more than enough.
Finally, I have to mentions sports again because somehow my beloved Leicester City side are going to go in to March at the top of the table. At this time last year, we were at our lowest point: 20th place out of 20, 7 points behind 17th place Aston Villa. We were as good as relegated. Today, we were nowhere near our best, but we found a late winner against Norwich and we're (briefly) five points clear of Arsenal and Tottenham. I won't even both to try to explain how this has happened. It only barely seems real, and I'm going to enjoy it for as long as it lasts.
Which, I hope, will be until after May 15...