After 500 lateral flows tests and 1 proper PCR test to confirm that the initial lateral flow tests weren’t all faulty, it turns out I have indeed, got Covid.
This is extremely inconvenient seeing as I have a sexy new racket waiting for me at my local tennis club, plus I had at least 12 anxiety attacks scheduled in. Not ideal.
Not to blow my own riddled trumpet but I am the most cautious person I know when it comes to Covid; I still wear a mask when I’m in a shop, on a train and in the bath. Plus, I’m always washing my hands, even after I’ve used the toilet.
But, I went to play netball last week where me and a group of other ladies who still aren’t ready to let go of our school PE days got all hot and sweaty and breathed over each other while trying to catch a ball, hold it for a maximum of 3 seconds, swivel on one foot and plop said ball into a hole half the size of the ball itself.
I am 83.5% certain this is where I caught it.
My need for exercise and social interaction is clearly going to be the death of me.
I have to self isolate for another 7 days which should be just enough time for my existential dread to peak, have a mental breakdown, and then be on the road to recovery all before next Wednesday when I will be ready to seize the day again.
And by “seize the day” I mean work from my kitchen table, go for my daily 2.5-mile lunchtime walk and gaze lovingly at my soon-to-be sexy new tennis racket.
I will now spend the next week lying in bed trying not to be dragged down a spiral of blackhead videos on Tik Tok. Pray for me.