Usually, when I feel guilty about the slow progress on my
car, I struggle to find reasonable excuses for dragging my feet, but this time
I actually have a legitimate reason and I can assure you, it hasn’t been fun!
I’m beginning my second week of quarantine with the nasty COVID-19
virus. After all the months of caution and staying home, my wife decided to spend
a few days with a good friend she hadn’t seen since the WuHan virus arrived.
The friend lives in a tiny town in farm and ranch country about a hundred miles
away where there were no crowds to avoid, so there seemed to be little risk of
infection. The second day she was there, the friend returned from a business
meeting with the news that one of her workmates had been in brief contact with
a person who had been in contact with yet another person who had tested
positive. My wife was worried and asked what she should do, so I told her to
come home just in case her friend had been exposed enough to contact the bug.
By the next day, she had developed a cough, and two days
later I did the same, so for the last week we have been fighting the endless glut
of symptoms that damn virus has in its arsenal. Since we are both in our
seventies, we had the concerns that go along with age and the normal maladies acquired
by being on the planet that many decades, but fortunately neither of us has serious
heart or lung issues.
This morning I woke up and actually felt like I might show
up on the survivor list! The heavy cough and congestion were finally breaking
up and the body aches were easing, although food still tastes like unsalted
cardboard and my eyes continue to burn and drain.
Thanksgiving dinner is ruined, but all we are seriously looking
forward to is being rid of this bug.
From what I hear, the total exhaustion that began on day-one
is the last symptom to leave, and it can go on for days and weeks, so I guess I
can still milk this excuse for sitting on my butt! Seriously, I hope I can get
back to the Plymouth in a week or two.
