Sick Expat: How I keep running even though only on bare fumes

Thoughts on how to hold on to the last straws of discipline when you just long to crawl back under the covers and shiver like the last autumn leaves in the winds before winter.

“Well now, some days, you kill it

And some days, you just choke

Some days, you just blast off

And some days, you just smoke”

The last couple of days of mine are best summed up by the great Sturgill Simpson. Not only have I been sick as something the grim reaper, slightly disgusted, would politely decline to take with him to Hell.

However, it sure feels like I have already arrived down there. In case you were wondering, this Hell isn’t really what it’s cracked up to be.

At least there are colors and sound to the fire and brimstone theater, some have promised us. Around here, it just feels a little dreary and grey.