Day 1
I woke up with a bad cold this morning, I was due to meet my friend for dinner so I thought I’d do 12 lateral flow tests to make sure I wasn’t riddled.
I don’t know how reliable the lateral flow tests are but all of them have said that I am very definitely positive, which is weird because normally the only positive thing about me is my blood type.
Popped myself to get a PCR test and am now waiting for the results…
Went to bed feeling scared about dying but also thankful that the eternal oblivion will mean I no longer have to worry about what to get family members for Christmas.
Day 2
Last night I had garlic bread, onions and olives. Are these particularly smelly foods? I certainly hope not because I couldn’t smell a bloody thing.
Test results are in… I’m negative on the pregnancy one (yes, I’m a lesbian but you can never be too sure) but I did test positive on the Covid one. Not the best outcome but definitely the right way around, could you imagine if it had been the other way around? It doesn’t bear thinking about.
Day 3
Have been wondering if I could sell my positive lateral flow tests online, surely there’s someone who wants to get out of work/school/their sister’s wedding…
Day 4
My guinea pigs have been zero help in the caregiving department. I certainly won’t be clapping for them on a Thursday. Not that we do that anymore, but it was nice while we did, good to put faces to the noises from the neighbours. Oh so that’s what he looks like, his grunts don’t really match his face.
Day 5
Have been ordering my meals and “essentials” from Uber Eats, Deliveroo and Just Eat, am now creating a scoring system for each to see who wins at the end. I don’t hold much hope for Uber Eats.
Day 6
What year is it? Are my parents still alive? Does the sun still set in the west? I feel I’m delirious from all the lempsips, cough medicines and Maltesers. Will try to sleep it off/hope it goes away while I watch another episode of whatever crap it is that I’m watching.
I can’t smell anything, not my belly button, not the gas expelled from colon nor the skin under my watch. Life’s simple pleasures have been snatched away.
Day 7
Another day in bed, another day not wearing a bra, my breasts are enjoying their freedom. I’m glad someone is.
Day 8
My boss keeps calling asking when I can return to work. Have told him to put my position up on a job site. Not because I’m going to die and not come back, just because all this time in bed has helped me evaluate my priorities and working, as it turns out, is not one of them. Back to bed with my shortbread biscuits. Uber Eats delivered within 18 minutes of my order, they’ve really upped their game.
Day 9
Last full day of isolation but I really want to make sure I can’t give this lurgy to anyone else so I’m going to stay in bed for two more days.
Day 11
Freedom at last! Uber Eats came from behind to win the delivery service, but now I must go outside and enjoy my freedom, aka, pick up the multipack of wagon wheels from the shop myself.
Day 12
I miss my bed, is it possible to catch Covid twice? Not that I want it again, but it’s nice to spend that much time in bed.