Bit of a low-key day within the larger crisis. Slogged through a text that had to be slogged through if I'm to write the thing that I'm thinking about writing. Many notes.
Peculiar heaviness and inaction descended when I sat down to the work, lasted a bit over an hour. No question of doing work, just had to allow whatever was shifting back into place in the psyche or the innards to do so.
Winter makes the situation much more difficult -- I can get through the event, walk through the cold, but then the body needs to repair itself, or at any rate it is best that it do so. Temperate evening yesterday, but the cold does descend as the night deepens. And you can plow through and survive, but the ship does need to mend itself for a bit afterwards.