Alas, the relaxed mood which blossomed during last week’s holiday has withered away. Work is again unpleasant. There are too many demands in my day. Besides seeing two dozen or more patients per day I have to address ~ 50 chart matters, a handful of calls, and a few forms. Despite coming in early, hardly having any lunch,  and working into the evening, it is not enough to keep up.

I continue to have a cold. It seems to go away only to return. I am rather spent. I’ve had no time to do much else. I feel a bit down in the dumps. The Muses appear to be staying away; they are probably trying to avoid catching my cold.  So I don’t have anything profound or witty to say.

Someone is ill as well. His cold has more aches and fevers (mine is more sneezing and congestion). Only Harper has some energy. This evening I took her for a brief walk for she loves to run loose in the park. She dashes off as fast as she can, running in circles for the joy of it, and then runs even faster back to greet me. It is a heart warming spectacle.

There is nothing to journal, for nothing is happening. I write to experience life twice; once in the moment and again in reflection. There is naught worth the scribble time.

So I bid my Spo-fans a good night. I will crawl into bed with Harper and perhaps too the latest edition of The Wine Spectator. With luck, I will nod off quickly and wake tomorrow a little less congested and perhaps a bit more hopeful.

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