My wife and I tested positive for Coronavirus last evening after a few hours of sitting around our apartment, feeling sick, realizing we had no sense of taste or smell, and thinking aloud to one another, “It must be some kind of sinus infection. There’s no way we have Covid. We never even leave the house!”
Well, it turns out we do have it. And it may have been from something as menial of a task as entering our building’s shared laundry room after someone else just spent time in there without a face mask. Or perhaps our apartment walls are thin enough for aerosols to pass through? Or our ventilation is connected? We have no idea. We haven’t set foot in a friend’s house, a grocery store, or any commercial retail space in months. We have followed social distancing protocols so strictly for the last 10 months that friendships have been strained and our personal comforts compromised. Anyone can catch this virus–perhaps especially in LA where we have known new strains appearing.
You might have it.
Please get a test if you feel symptoms, and do your due diligence as a member of society.
And fuck your politics.
Now that that’s established, I’ll share my most meaningful experiences whenever the mood strikes me on this blog.
Day 1:
I woke up around three in the morning from a nightmare about not being able to breath. Got out of bed and drank whiskey in the living room for a bit after that. I barely tasted the whiskey. And then our cat started vomiting. I was then drunk, cleaning cat vomit, and worrying we got our cat sick. Twenty minutes later and the whiskey gone, the cat seems fine and wants to play.
Paul Losada 