Day number one of my long expected leave started with a sore throat. And we all know what follows a sore throat in the middle of a pandemic: that’s right, shitting your pants! There are no diseases that matter right now. You either have Covid, had Covid, or about to get it. We have some friends with a 6 month old who has had 3 Covid tests in a month, because every time they show up to the pediatrician’s office with a fever (that is, every other week), there’s a mad rush for hazmat suits. Quarantine for 2 days while they get results: rinse, lather, repeat. So yeah, there was panic in our household.
When you work from home for years at a time, you need to guard your mental health. At some point you prioritize staying sane, over getting sick (within reason of course). Staying indoors 24×7 is easier for me than for my partner, but it’s still not a walk in the park. So we’ve extended our bubble to another set of friends– yes, the one’s with the baby, because we’re geniuses and apparently like living on the edge! We meet them a couple times a week, mostly outdoors, but if it’s too cold, indoors it is. We’ve pretty much decided that if one gets it, we’ll all get it. Yes, for the first time ever I wish I had 5-6 kids running around (cause I bet the Beardsley and Berecz households have yet to have a boring day in the pandemic).
There was a lot of head scratching at home. I’m far from the strictest hermit, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen anyone indoors but the usual suspects, and none of them had sounded our agreed upon alarm (hysterical screaming and pant pooping). So I decided to ignore it. Maybe it was the family-sized bag of potato chips I had downed with an even bigger bottle of Tabasco. Cause we all know that causes sore throats. However, after pretty much inhaling a bottle of Listerine (cause bleach wasn’t available), and a night’s sleep, things didn’t get better. On the contrary, now I had a slight cough and headache. That’s when I decided a Covid test was in order. I mean, how bad could it be?
Well, had I known how bad a PCR test would be, I would’ve opted for the full-on Covid, because apparently coward and wuss do not do me justice. But alas, this has already dragged on enough. I’ll follow up later this week, while I recover (from the test, not the coughing).
(*spoiler alert*) Mom, I don’t have Covid.
p.s. I think Alba secretly knows I’m on leave, despite my valiant efforts at the office. She keeps looking over to my end of our shared desk, smiling and saying “so… are we on strike today?”. I’m like…what do you mean? “Oh nothing…”.