Please hurry, Spring, you are sorely needed...

Another day, another mood change. I think my brain is suffering from the lack of oxygen brought about by the coughing and the lack of sleep.
I'm pretty convinced that I've had Covid. It seems to be everywhere at the moment, and the way I've been feeling this past week seems very reminiscent of my previous Covid experiences. I did test at the end of last week, but I'm not sure the old tests necessarily recognise the newer variants, so it may have been a false negative. And I definitely had a temperature for a couple of days, and I've been coughing and lethargic since, so I'm guessing it's more of a coronavirus than an influenza one. But what do I know?
The main point is, I'm feeling very sorry for myself, and I'm finding it very hard not to feel even more sorry for myself. I'm sore, I'm tired, I'm pissed off, I feel victimised and violated and I'm sick of coughing up the insides of my own lungs. I'm also sick of having no energy and feeling like I'm not breathing properly. I'm annoyed that I couldn't have the Christmas I wanted and I feel guilty about stopping Philippa sleeping because I can't seem to stay healthy enough to have a peaceful night's sleep.
I am not, to be frank, a happy Rory today.

RC 3-1-24