I thought I was invincible: for two years I have somehow managed to dodge Covid, and yet within ten minutes of taking a lateral flow test this morning, I was rudely reminded that I am not.
I'm immensely lucky that due to my triple-vaxed status, my symptoms are only mild - just a sore throat - this doesn't stop me from being highly irritated of this outcome. You see I was supposed to go to the Globe tonight and watch Julius Caesar, yet instead I'm watching old episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians in curry-stained pyjamas, enjoying a chocolate bar - thankfully I can still taste! But I was looking forward to blogging about the Globe's latest production. No matter; as I feel like writing, I thought I'd come on here and have a bit of a moan.
My mum is worried (as all mums are) and has banished me from the kitchen. So for now I am confined to my bedroom until I have a negative result. I was contemplating all the productive things I could do; tidy my room, clean my desk, organise laundry. Perhaps I will. Most likely I won't.
I could have a crack at the ever-growing pile of unread books by my bed. Thing is, it is too overwhelming to start right now.
What about the article I need to write and pitches I need to send out? I don't have the energy right now.
The truth is as soon as I saw that second line appear, I decided that I was unwell. Despite the fact I felt/ still feel fine, I am wallowing in self-pity. At least I will for today. Then tomorrow, who knows? Maybe I'll read Julius Caesar.
Cartoon: Bored Panda
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