What I Did During My Covid Break

After a grueling few weeks (Independence Day at the lake essentially ran directly into OBFT XXXII), I was looking forward to a bit of wound-licking and low-laying. Turned out I got more of the latter than I'd expected or hoped.

I felt a little tickle in my throat and a general malaise on Wednesday evening. That didn't stop me from having a couple of 12.5% Adroit Theory/Kettlehead quadruple IPAs. Because I'm a man. I'm 55.

When I woke up Thursday, I knew with a high degree of certainty what was going on. The minor symptoms of the previous evening gave way to an all-over ache, elevated temperature, a sore throat and a cough. I found an old COVID test, even though I knew what it would say. As often is the case, I was correct.

I soldiered through several work calls that day - Willis Reed sorta shit. My coffee didn't taste good and I didn't have much interest in caffeine - another significant indicator that something was amiss. My wife and I were scheduled to spend the weekend in St. Michael's. That was right out.

Instead, I sequestered in my basement, alternating naps with watching episodes 10 and 11 of season two of Andor, and sharing running commentary with my kid via text - she'd already completed the arc. I slept - not well - on the couch in the basement.

My company had a day off Friday, and I'm thankful for small blessings. I slept in , then spent the day watching The Open, then the Spain/Switzerland women's EURO quarterfinal in between naps. Naps are good. I thought I was feeling a little better, so I took my dog to a regional park along a river so she could get a romp in. I was not better - realized pretty early in the outing how weak and tired this stupid disease leaves a body.

That evening, I watched season two, episode six of Six Nations on Netflix, in which Italy beat Scotland for the first time ever. That's a tough one for the Scots, but Italy's Argentinian coach Gonzalo Quesada might be the goods.

Followed up the rugby with Andor episode 12 right into Rogue One (the former ends chronologically at the very beginning of the latter, and the continuity throughout is excellent) before I ran out of gas. Maybe 'cause gummy.

Slept in again yesterday, then rinsed and repeated: Round three of The Open, walking the dog (felt a lot sprightlier), France/Germany in the final EUROs quarter, then into some evening USL and MLS. 

During more lucid moments, read as much of Ben Fountain's "Devil Makes Three" as my stamina would allow. It's a tale of a couple of Americans in Haiti during the coup that toppled Jean-Bertrand Aristide (the first one, anyway), and it does not skimp on the background or the story. 

Last night, my symptoms were down to just a slight cough and a tiny bit of congestion. My wife wants to head to a local winery for a festival today, my health permitting. Fingers crossed, friends. Could today be the day I rejoin the world?