And so, Biden's declaration about the end of the pandemic notwithstanding, I am home with COVID and so, it would seem, is my mom. It could be a lot worse but, frankly, I wouldn't mind it being a whole lot better. I have the cough and sore throat and temperature, managed tolerably well with Acetaminophen.
With the exception of pizza on Graham's birthday a couple of years back, I have for the first time ordered something for delivery by one of those delivery services, some spicy chicken tortilla soup from Monterey. I will be happy when it gets here.
For my reading pleasure I have been making my way through Michael Chabon's The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, which I'm pretty sure Beth gave me some years ago. It is a fun, if fat book, and it diminishes my respect for Amor Towles, who now seems derivative. Not that Towles is bad, he's just not as original as he seemed.
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