Last night I started feeling a little ill, with a sore throat. This morning I still had the sore throat, plus a bit of elevated temperature that fell far short of anything I could call a “fever.” Otherwise I felt reasonably okay.
But we’re in a pandemic, right? So Covid was the first thing that came to mind, and I thought I’d better get tested.
Kathy is out of town this week, traveling with a college friend, so I’m on my own. At least if I were contagious she wouldn’t get it.
I worked for over an hour trying to find a testing station that would take me, and there weren’t any. Every station in driving distance was full-up for the rest of the week. The earliest the Department of Health could see me was the 27th, by which time I’d either be dead or cured.
(Turns out that I was trying to find a test on the day when 1% of the population of New Mexico tested positive— 21,000 on a single day!)
Well, I didn’t feel terribly sick, so I wasn’t very worried. But still.
Then I checked my mail, and behold! The home test kits I’d ordered weeks ago had finally arrived!
I spoiled the first test by putting the solution into the wrong slot, but I got it right the second time, and after waiting ten minutes I discovered that I was Covid-free. The instructions say to test again tomorrow, which I will, but in the meantime it was time for celebration. The cocktails didn’t make me feel worse, that’s for certain.
So it turns out I’ve just got a cold. Or strep throat. Or lots of things, just not Covid.
I’m okay, which is more than I can say for the rest of the world. Take care, everybody.
