Covid Fatigue — Bring on the Magic Bubbles

Even our doggy, Sugar, seems stressed and exhausted.

Signs of fatigue:

• I chose church of “The Brady Bunch” over in-person or sofa Mass. I’m not proud, and might feel less fatigued now, Sunday at 8:53 p.m., had I not spooned up nostalgic baby food on MeTV instead of embracing prayer and faith. But I really enjoyed traveling back with a show that aired when I was ages 8 to 13 — seeing Mr. and Mrs. Brady, Alice in her blue uniform, all the kids, that nice house, Jan helping to prep the dinner salad. I caught the missing-mouse and tonsils/ice cream episodes.
• Almost stepped on our poor dust mop, Sugar. Our little fluffy Bichon now pees 8-plus times a day, often on our old wood floors. We are (mostly, I am) in a constant whir of Swiffering. She gets underfoot a lot, especially when she sniffs a cinnamon-raisin English muffin in the toaster or bacon in the pan. She has glaucoma and cataracts, is blind in one eye. Ancient French auntie — age 16 1/2 — we love her so.
• Even though I take a multivitamin, my energy is depleted from doing ordinary chores — laundry, dishes, a little raking as darkness fell. Oh, and watching “Meet the Press” and shuttling Skipper back and forth across town so she could help bathe her friends’ FOUR Marmaduke-sized dogs. I planned to make baked scallops, rice and broccoli for dinner but instead had a toaster bagel with Temp Tee whipped cream cheese and told Dan he could make a quesadilla with shredded Mexican cheese and a flour tortilla. In a…