My hips ached. I couldn’t sleep. At three o’clock, it occurred to me to take some ibuprofen. That helped, but way too late, I was up. I took my Covid test at five. The extra line, the positive line, showed up in ninety seconds. I spent the next fourteen minutes Googling whether it might disappear.
When Susan woke up, she found me rifling the closet for the good masks, the N95s, the masks I thought we wasted money on last fall when the pandemic seemed over. I began reviewing protocols. I know these from work. Wear a mask to keep my family safe. Isolate for five days. Take future tests to make sure I’m well. All those half-done jobs at my office will remain half done for another week. No coaching, probably no exercise either. God, what will I do with myself? I had a momentary panic when I realized I already squandered today’s Wordle. Read? I bought two books of music themed short stories over the weekend—fortunate timing. Write about this? Is it even newsworthy? Everyone’s had Covid. No one cares anymore.
As Susan and Eli began moving around this morning, I felt guilt. I’m causing disruption. Susan’s boss told her to stay home. Sophie visited a friend in North Carolina over the weekend. Now she’ll return to a quarantine house. She only has two more weeks at home this summer. This is her birthday week. Eli can’t work from home. We hung out most of yesterday. When he tests positive, he’ll miss a week of work, a week of mountain bike season.
And one of us might actually get sick. Early in the pandemic, the thought of a positive Covid test terrified me. So many unknowns, no one vaccinated, no treatments. Susan and I got our second boosters two weeks ago. Neither of our kids has an underlying condition. Covid is likely to be an inconvenience, maybe some missed sleep, some mild discomfort, not the life-threatening disease we first feared. But you never know. Several people recently told me their Covid symptoms shocked them. Like me, they dismissed it as yesterday’s problem, then they got knocked on their butt.
My job doesn’t transfer well to remote work. My files and my databases are only accessible in the office. This will essentially be a week off for me. Hopefully I’ll feel fine, and I can get some stuff done at home. There’s that unfinished patio, week after week, inching closer to complete—maybe I can knock that out. Our basement is overdue for spring cleaning. Expect daily writing, possibly from the moping vein. I’ll mask, keep my distance from the rest of my family, and try my best to make the most of this week.