Maria has a lot of people out there (and in here) who love and admire her. If I write about her being sick, I better offer updates on how she’s doing, or I’ll be in deep trouble.  A lot of people are asking.

She is still quite sick, but she is doing 20 percent better than yesterday. She tested negative for Covid, looks like the flue, indeed picked up in Williamstown.

I can tell she is because she is talking, thinking, complaining,  harassing me,  sharing her many revelations about the world and poking fun at me for good measure.

Things are slowly returning to normal, but there was at least one day of peace. Just as she is a great caretaker, she expects the same of me. She needs to rest a couple more days; she is still worn out.

I was worried; I don’t often see Maria that sick.

Somebody messaged me this morning to ask how it felt to be a househusband, and I had to laugh since I’ve been one for ten years since we married. Maria is many things, but being domestic is not one of them.

It is not silent in here any longer.

Yesterday, she was as sick as I remember her being – silent, sweet, agreeable. It’s not something I’m used to seeing, and it gave me a good dose of perspective.

Neither of us is a natural caretaker; even if the other is barely conscious, we keep working. She is just in the next room, dozing, resting on the sofa downstairs, and writing about lying next to the donkeys.

This morning, she disappeared, and I worried she was stocking wood; I went out looking for her and was surprised to see her lying next to Fanny, one of our donkeys, who was resting in the sun.

Maria just lay down next to her, and the two held one of their memorable conversations, and then Lulu came over and wanted some attention. I swear the donkeys are mystical beings, capable of reading our minds.

I’m sure she will write about it on her blog.

This is how Maria heals; the animal part of her goes out into the wild and lies down to rest with other animals. This is not what doctors recommend for the flu.