Hey, gang! Sorry for the virtual disappearing act -- I swear I wasn't trying to be a drama queen -- and a big thank-you to everyone who reached out to check on me. Here's what happened:
I suffer from year-round "seasonal" allergies, but over the weekend my sinuses started to hurt more than even usual. (With the amount of pseudoephedrine I purchase, I know everyone at my local CVS secretly calls me Mr. T and Tina.) When I developed a low-grade fever, my first thought was a sinus infection. Then Monday rolled around and I was completely bed-ridden -- incapable of even turning on my computer much less blogging or actually working. The past few days have been spent sleeping, fighting off a fever and generally being miserable. Despite being two years into this pandemic, I still wasn't thinking I had Covid-19. (I've also been on a bit of a Lucky Charms bender, you know.) My sense of smell was intact. I didn't have any breathing problems. And I had gone two years -- including trips to the maskless Ozarks, maskless Egypt and a month in maskless Arizona plus a handful of concerts and other large events -- without catching it. (I was starting to smugly believe I was one of those naturally immune types!) But I was finally strong enough to get a test yesterday and sure enough I had been infected. Definitely on the mend now, so I will be easing back into my regularly scheduled blog fare in the days and week ahead! xo
P.S. Contact-tracing is impossible anymore, but what do you think about this? As I said, I have been out and about in the epicenter of the pandemic for two years and never got exposed. Last Wednesday, Damian and I attended a Tori Amos concert at Kings Theatre in Brooklyn, which we at first assumed was where I got it, despite being masked and going about things as I have the past two years. (If I caught it there, however, somehow Damian did not -- or remained asymptomatic.) But then I remembered on Thursday night -- when Damian went to see Tori again -- I was turning over a load of laundry late at night in the basement of our extraordinarily quiet apartment building (sans mask) and being startled when the elevator stopped on the way back up and a delivery guy got on at lobby level -- also maskless -- and that we exchanged pleasantries inches away from one another. I guess I'll never know for sure how my luck ran out, but my incredibly kind boss had this to say about my theory:
It’s always the delivery guy. No more pleasantries!
