I’ve taken my temperature three or four times today, and right now it’s 97.9. I don’t quite feel at peak strength, but I’m past the worst of the Omicron seige. This is the first day since last Tuesday that I haven’t wanted to sleep like a corpse. In fact I’ve been standing at my desk for eight hours.
I thought I might start to climb out of it yesterday (Thursday) but Omicon rallied and refused to back down. But it’s mostly gone today, or is certainly receding. It was a bear for about two and a half days. I couldn’t do anything but sleep, night or day. I managed to tap some stuff out on the phone, okay, but sitting up was out of the question.
I’ve been told, by the way, that my grandfather name is “papa” — the same name that my father embraced when Jett and Dylan were young. I guess I’m okay with it, but can’t Sutton just call me Jeff? How any grandfather could accept being called “gramps” or “grandpappy” or “boompah”…Jesus!
