I have zero holiday woo woo this year. I didn’t start out that way. I was feeling pretty optimistic about my holiday plans, hoping to get in some socially distanced time with in-laws and friends. Then I got COVID-19. They very day I crossed the border.
My wife got the funky covidtina at American Thanksgiving, from someone in their bubble who knew he had it but attended anyway. Gee, thanks, big fella. Nothing like a little selfishness to go with roast turkey and sweet potato pie.
So about four days into my isolation I started showing symptoms. By then my wife was exhibiting signs. For those who are wondering about the isolation, a requirement of entering NY state from another country is that you isolate. I had my own bathroom, we were masked in the house in each other’s presence, we didn’t really interact with each other at all in spite of not seeing each other for nearly a year, and it didn’t matter. We did everything right, masked and disinfected our lives, and I got it anyway.
For about three days I was feverish and miserable. My wife had a lot of congestion and she was sicker longer. The aftershocks, though, were just exquisite. The pain. The fucking pain. Our muscles and bones felt like burning, breaking glass. If I could compare it to something, it was like West Nile – which I’ve had – combined with influenza, which I’ve also had. That was my experience. I had very little congestion – a few sniffles, but Lordy be, those shamanic fevers took me on a trip without the airplane.
My freedom day was last Friday, the 18th, but I haven’t felt like really doing anything until today. It is two days to Christmas Eve. I don’t even know where to begin. Underneath the tree is rather empty. I know it’s not supposed to be about the presents, but for me, seeing a nice haul of gifts under the tree, that I put there, is one of the signposts to me that everything is all right in the universe. Life is ok, because I could afford to put presents under the tree. Life does not feel ok right now.
I was able to tend to the stockings before I moved, so we’ll have that. There’s a turkey breast defrosting for our Christmas dinner for two, and I was able to get the ingredients for my Christmas morning breakfast. The presents I sent to Winnipeg arrived, so there’s that. But it still doesn’t feel like Christmas. It feels like a grey old Groundhog Day.
So that’s where I am right now. Looking for that Yuletide spirit and baking cookies.
