Older Kid had it first, and we were all fretful that he’d have to give up his Nutcracker role. He got asymptomatic and tested negative soon enough that he’s back in his slippers for this weekend’s performances.
But this morning, I tested positive for the first time ever.
I have a couple of extra risk factors, which is daunting. We all got the omicron boosters, so there’s that.
So far, the symptoms suck a little less than the last ordinary cold I had. I guess that makes sense — it’s not like I had the benefit of vaccination against the last cold. Older Kid’s worst symptoms were over in 48 hours. To think my 50-something body will tackle this the way a teenager’s does would be crazy. I can hope, though.
The usual Nutracker chaos, which every year eats my whole family with great gnashing wooden teeth, is, in itself, as strenuous as predicted.
I didn’t predict the covid.
When I say my car was totaled, which I also did not predict, bear in mind that a 15-year-old car can accumulate repairs more expensive than its value pretty easily. As the Spouse put it, “That car was going to get totaled by the next thing it bumped into, even if that turned out to be a squirrel.” Turned out to be not a squirrel, but a firetruck. No living beings were harmed in the making of this paragraph.
I think this is the moment when it’s customary to predict a rain of frogs. One opens a window and yells to the sky, “What’s next?”
What’s next is that I’m going to hold onto gratitude that we are, so far, all basically okay, and the show goes on, and my life is full of amazing helpful people who care about me.
I’m also grateful that I will have no choice but to isolate a lot in my room. I don’t get to cook dinner for anyone! I don’t get to put away clean dishes or laundry, or anything that someone still testing negative will touch in the next 24 hours. I have to seal myself up in my room, where it’s quiet and there’s nobody but me to take care of.
Wish me luck.