I think I’ve been running on fumes for a little while now. It’s been a year, of juggling my full time job, my (what is, essentially) volunteer work being the unit president for my union, and now, being a writer. While every single day isn’t jam packed, I was doing a stretch there where every day off was dedicated to editing and revision and it just kind of felt like I never actually had time off.

I think you can only do that for so long.

A week ago, I came to work feeling rough, and by a few hours into my shift, was driving home, shivering and miserable. A fever! How high? 101.6! I spent most of that day kind of delirious, in and out of sleep. My partner stayed home from work and took care of me which was very nice. By day two, I knew it was the flu.

I’m lucky it only lasted three days, but when I was longing for some time off to rest a recuperate, THE FLU ISN’T WHAT I HAD IN MIND. I think I picked it up from several visits to an elementary school, though I wore a mask for every visit. Kid germs are industrious. Kid germs will FIND a WAY.

Anyway, I’m in that place now where everything is back with editors, so that’s one thing off my plate for a little while, at least. Work is getting busier again, as pandemic restrictions keep relaxing, giving those new variants a chance to really thrive. And we’re about to negotiate our new union contract. That’s a process that starts next week, and will likely take the next few months.

It’s an ebb and flow, I guess, and that’s fine. I don’t mind being busy, but sometimes my flesh prison gives out on me. I think, too, I need a shake up at work. A new library branch, a new community, a new view. I just need… something to change. You ever feel that way? Desperate for something new?

In a country that only ever seems to move backwards?