A Melbourne resident marking their first well day in over a week had, by their own admission, built the moment up considerably, only for the actual return to the outside world to arrive under a flat grey sky with the specific, joyless drizzle of early spring.
"In my head it was going to be sunshine," she said, standing at the window with a coffee, watching a light mist settle over everything. "I had a whole outfit planned. I was going to walk somewhere with a view. That was the vision."
The vision had been formed gradually, over nine days largely spent watching, through the same window, what she describes as "genuinely beautiful weather" happen to other people. "I watched it be gorgeous out there for a week while I couldn't leave the couch," she said. "I feel like I earned better than this."
By mid-morning, the ambition had adjusted itself in stages. Sunshine and a scenic walk became sunshine and a normal walk, which became overcast but dry, which became, by the time she actually left the house, "at least it's not raining that hard."
"I've recalibrated," she said, opening the door to a light but persistent drizzle. "This still counts. I'm choosing to let this count."
She completed a short loop around the block, returned slightly damp, and reported the experience as "fine, genuinely fine," while acknowledging that some part of her still felt she'd been personally shortchanged by the weather after holding up her end of the deal by simply getting better.
"I did the hard part," she said. "I got well. The least it could've done was met me halfway."