random truths – Day 1,016 (Wednesday) – oh fudge

Alarm, wake up, start the coffee, feed Winston, pause for breath, and realize that the symptoms and ailments of the day prior are all still fully present. The next course of business was to take out one of the several boxes of COVID tests and get busy.

Oh, fudge. Positively positive.

In the past 1,000-plus days, there have been two instances of testing. In both cases, it was after being a contact of someone who tested positive. Both of those times, the test results were negative. This morning’s test had a different result. At 8.5 minutes into the 10-minute processing time, was the fateful "oh, fudge" moment and the positive test line appeared through the tube without even needing step 10 of the instructions sheet, the analysis of lines. Positively positive. 

After all this time successfully evading and avoiding illness, my number was up and it was feeling like the year of the crappiest Christmas gift. COVID. The ‘Rona. The ‘Vid. The Virus. The Plague. Blech.

The isolation countdown clock is activated. It's not feeling quite as fun as the New Year's Eve countdown clock.

I have felt better. I have felt worse. The runny nose, queasy stomach, and aches are less awful when laying down. The most annoying current symptom is the chills. Feeling cold is my least favorite state of being, and sadly it is the most frequent. Now it is exponentially worse. Leave it to me to get an illness that had fever as a symptom and I get to freeze instead. It was a second sick day curled up on the couch under a blanket. Luckily, the freezer is loaded with containers of soup. 

Winston, Canine Overlord of Mystery.

While changing from the fleece pajamas into fleece daywear for convalescing on the couch, I noticed that the comforter, the duvet cover, and the quilt inside the duvet cover all had blood stains where Winston sleeps. This required mustering the strength to run multiple loads of laundry while in a state of illness. 

Winston, The BungaLowell dog of mystery, in his typical cards close to the vest style, was not revealing any hints as to the source of his own ailment. Despite carefully examining him as though I were a veterinarian, I couldn’t determine where the blood came from. It looks like there are two mysteries in the house – one for each occupant. What body part did the dog’s blood on the comforter come from, and how did COVID finally catch me?