On a good day I washed, even scrubbed, the knobs on the stove after I soaked them in hot soapy water. I did not clean the oven.
I cleaned out the drawers in my desk, putting all the paper clips in a baggie, all the rubber bands, in another bag, further grouping pencil leads, staples, and different kinds of adhesive tapes. I vacuumed the drawers before refilling them.
All the out-of-date OTC liquid medicines are gone. I poured the liquids down the drain and cleaned out the containers for recycling.
On a good day I threw out all the out-of-date hemorrhoid medication tubes, not having had that problem for about eight years.
On all the days I read e-news from The Guardian and four other newspapers. I listened to the morning news on NPR if I got up early enough. Mostly I slept until 10 a.m., three hours later than usual.
On all the days, I watched “Monk” on Prime, “Midsommer Murders” on Acorn, something edifying on PBS and “Cold Case” on Roku. I even watched TV in the afternoon.
On good days I got a really good score on the New York Times Spelling Bee. On a few days I couldn’t get better than the “Nice” rating.
On all the days I thought too much about my body. On all days, I rejoiced when personal emails arrived.
Rosemary Woodell, 81, lives in Talmadge Terrace and has now completely recovered from a recent bout of Covid.
