You know, it's gotten a lot cooler the last couple of nights than it had throughout the end of April. I don't keep an eye on the weather, but as I broke down and turned on my air conditioner a week ago, I've woken up cold the last two days. It's not freezing in my humble abode, but cool enough to require that all important winter second blanket. It complicates my imagination.

Here's the thing... I have a wild imagination. I'm also isolated alone. Those two don't normally mix well. Every little sound is something you know what I mean? So when I wake up cold, I can usually tell how cold I was. The body tries to stay warm under the covers, but when it needs more heat, you shiver and tense up. So when you finally wake up, odds are you're a little stiff. With my imagination, I automatically think "I've got the rona." Aches and pains are a tell tale sign right? So naturally, I take my temperature. It's normal. I breathe a sigh of relief.

About that imagination...

What if I'm a one in 2.43 billion that gets it without the fever? I'm the only person I know that's ever had Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, so odd happenings run in my veins.

I'm just overthinking it. I've got too much isolated time to sit and think about it, and with the current economy, not quite enough work to completely distract myself. That's why I'm here, writing this. It's my distraction. I'm just trying to waste time for another few minutes until my lunch gets ready. I had everything to make pizza except for the crust, so I tossed meat, cheese, and sauce into a ramekin and put it in the oven... I'm pretty sure it's going to be epic pizza soup.

The imagination strikes again...

What if I boiled some high-proof liquor and stood over it, breathing in the steam? Would that kill the potential virus I'm waiting to discover inside myself?

For legal reasons, don't do that. That's a terrible idea.

I'm sure I'll take my temperature more throughout the day just to stay vigilant. You should wash your hands. Your dirty, coronavirus covered hands.