I think I really woke up to the presence of Covid when a case was reported on the floor where I used to work. That was on 7th March 2020. I've managed to dodge the virus for 980 days, while everyone else in our family seems to have succumbed at one time or another. The Beloved came down poorly last weekend. On Monday, Dau.II, who is visiting, and I went into town for supplies - more tissues! ginger ale! something nice for dinner! - as we left the house we are asked to pick up some Covid-19 tests. Reaming out TB's nose showed the tell-tale Covid+ve line. There was no point in me doing a test then, despite sounding a bit barky: we could assume that we were sharing virus as we share so much else in our lives.
By Tuesday, I was def'ny unwell - not take to the bed and moan unwell but certainly not the full shilling. Didn't stop me sawing a load of fire wood, for example. Being sick was a bummer because Wexford Science Café was meeting on Tuesday evening to talk about wind-farms and it promised to be a bit of a punch-up. And this evening was meant to be a discrete knees-up with my former colleagues to acknowledge that I was one of six silver-backs who had retired from the Faculty in the last 3 years. I'll have to RSVP=No to that as well because, according to the instant gratification Covid-19 self-test [R], which I took an hour ago, I am still shedding virus. Dang!
And tomorrow I could have been judging some school science projects at a DEIS school in Gorey but that too has to be put on the long finger. Science Week 2022 has been rolling along without me this year! Anyway, I am right glad about never having to pull a sicky at The Institute during the eight years I worked there. Despite being exposed to the usual blizzard of microbes at the beginning of every term.