At least I'm pretty sure it's not covid. No fever and I can still smell/taste everything. Plus, it's a wet cough, not a dry one. Stupid cold.
However, the nap did help me muster enough energy to go out and get my garden beds planted. I still have to do the planters, but I need more sod for that so Craig is running out tomorrow to get that for me. At the same time, I asked him to pick up more cough medicine, NyQuil, and acetaminophen. I'm out of the first two, and if I'm going to be coughing again, I need them if I want to get enough sleep to get better. Because my dreams when I'm sick? Not fun. Last night, I dreamt that my clerk test score that I was so happy about had actually been padded by 75% as accommodation for the fact that it was my first year working in the library, and that my real score was actually quite pathetic. Nothing like my imposter syndrome rearing its ugly head again just when I'm trying to keep an even keel.
I had a mild freakout tonight when I discovered that there's a confirmed covid case in my hometown. It's in an apartment building on the other side of town, but that's all we know. I had to talk myself down from it, because a) I'd never even heard of the apartment building until today, b) we are extra careful when we go out, and c) nobody has contacted us about possible exposure. But logic seems to take a back seat these days when my defenses are down.