Early this morning, Ed came upstairs (after a night of working and dozing on the couch), announcing that he has a raspy throat. Whoa, stop right there! I'm thinking: he couldn't have Covid. No one else is sick or at least testing positive. And the guy never goes anywhere or sees anyone. Sure, once last week, at the dentist's. And once to sell the truck to the happy buyer. But that's it. He can't have Covid. Indeed, he has yet to fall sick with it, ever.
Still... Ed, maybe you should test for Covid. And there you have it -- he's positive. Strongly positive. What the heck??
Since I've had Covid twice, we have a plan in place that we'd implemented in the past: he moves to the sheep shed. Only this time, he's the one who is the pariah in the household, poor guy.
We discuss his taking Paxlovid. I direct him to call the clinic, where they tell him that as of January 1st, it's going to cost him upwards of $800. But! There's a special program for eligible Covid cases. He's not especially vulnerable (except for his age), but he dutifully runs through the eligibility criteria with the nurse. Bingo! He qualifies!
Except that he then reads (almost) everything that has ever been written on the subject and decides even as a freebe, he doesn't need it or want it. I don't blame him. We are super vaccinated and his symptoms are mild.
Okay, that's taken care of.
I'm thinking -- maybe I have a-symptomatic Covid? I should test.
Nope, negative. Still, I spent nearly every minute of the day with him yesterday. What are the chances that I wont get it? I talk to my daughter and we shuffle around the weekend plans.
And I go for a walk. It's super cold, but it will get colder. Clearing the mind at a brisk pace is a great idea.
(hey, I'm alone too!)
I return, I eat breakfast. Still healthy! But alone.
Though not for long: I have a lunch date -- with these happy kids...
... and their parents.
(cupcakes for dessert)
This is when I really start to appreciate the incredible luck we've had this season. If we had to deal with Covid, there is no better time for it: past holidays, past even my New Year's Day with him, not during travel. A time where clearing the weekend of contact is easy. True, Snowdrop has a birthday imminently, but she has a kid party at a swimming pool on one weekend day (where I definitely was NOT going to make an appearance!), and a Shakespeare party celebrating the Twelfth Night on the other (you know -- it's the Bard's play and it will be on the twelfth night). We can have a family birthday celebration next week. So many lucky breaks!
Which reminds me -- I read an article this afternoon in the Wired with the delicious title -- How Do You Live a Happier Life? Notice What Was There All Along. Somewhat predictably, the author tells you to rush through the bad stuff and reacquaint yourself with all the good things in your life. Here's an interesting snippet from the article:
Imagine walking into a coffee shop. At first the aroma of freshly brewed coffee is salient, but after about 20 minutes, you can no longer smell it. Your olfactory neurons stop responding—they habituate. And just as you become accustomed to the scent of coffee, you may also become used to more complex aspects of your life.
The challenge then is to regain sensitivity, both to the great things in life, so we can feel the joy, and to the terrible things we stopped noticing that we could potentially change if we try. So, how do we dishabituate?
The idea here is to teach yourself to pay attention to the aromatic coffee again! And reshuffle things a bit, getting rid of at least some of the unpleasantness in your everyday. [I find that this second charge is significantly harder to do. Most of us know where the stressors are and most of us cannot do much about them without some risk to the delicate balance in our lives. Still, even dumping just one source of anxiety may be worth a try.]
After the lunch en famille, I go grocery shopping. I want to stock up, in case I get sick. I think about being extra polite and good to those in my orbit. Not so easy when one person pushes, another snarls, a third budges the line. Have we let go of our 2025 resolves already?? There are a lot of grumpy people out there! Maybe some of them would buy into this -- Andy Borowitz's satirical piece in my Inbox today:
...On Wednesday, the year 2025 was cancelled by popular demand.
There was widespread support for this... One day in, it's clear that 2025 was a terrible idea. Let's just move on to 2026 and see if that's any better.
Of course, you cannot tell why someone may have had a rough start to the year, to the day, to the hour. Why they may feel compelled to snarl at you and tell you that you're in the wrong line. It's easy to stay cheerful if you just finished the best holiday season ever. Who am I to demand kindness from someone who perhaps had the worst December imaginable! Well, at least I didn't snarl back! Little things.
And now for my other notation in the Title line of Ocean: the twenty-first? The twenty-first what?
As it happens, it is the 21st Anniversary of Ocean. Twenty-one years of daily blogging. Even I think that's a lot of blogging! It takes a lot of chutzpah (defined: cheek, or gall) to think that you have something worth saying to a general audience every single day of your life!
But in truth, that's not how it works: I'm a great example of how you can be not outstanding (except in the fact that I persevere for all these years...), not at the top of any heap, not admirable, perhaps not even interesting and certainly not spectacular and yet... you keep at it. Because it is in your soul to write, to describe life as you know it. To illustrate it even! To keep at it, despite the eye rolls, the head shakes, the buts and whatifs.
I could not do this without the people in my life who accept the premise that I want to write about real events in my days and who let me include them in my story, because well, they are in many ways my life. Ed, for sure. The young families most definitely. My friends who do not clobber me when I bring a camera to our coffee date or trip or adventure. And of course those of you who write to me, especially when something that I say hits a sweet note for you. You are all the best and I can never thank you enough for making this ongoing project viable for me, and for those who read Ocean.
I love you all.
And now to a solo supper. Maybe a movie that Ed would never agree to watch? Is there one out there? I'm on it!
