In the foreseeable future

Tomorrow I'm playing at the historic building. On Thursday morning my piano is being delivered. On Thursday afternoon I'm due for the weekly walk, but that'll depend on whether I feel strong enough, and whether I think I'm still contageous. If I still feel this rough on Thursday I'll email my brother to see if he still wants me to visit him on Friday. I don't know what to do about the charity shop. This will have been the third Friday I didn't attend. I don't know why I bother worrying about it. It's one of those jobs I do because I'm expected to, and I'm also expected to do it for nothing. But worry I do. It's what I always do.