Covid In This House
Hey there. I'm sitting in bed alone tonight. Well, Atom is here. But one significant chunk of my life is not. Aaron.
He's on the couch. He's on the couch with COVID.
We've both been vaccinated since March. Craig, my boss, got us in the front door early. And for the past two weeks, we've been a bit lackadaisical about mask-wearing; heading to bars, visiting friends, and all else. Even AVOCA repealed our mask mandate, with both staff and patrons ditching the face coverings for a great collaborative throwback to another time.
And somehow, it his us. And just the next day the news reports starting popping up in all of our feeds. COVID cases are spiking in all 50 states. It's now being projected that by October, the daily death toll will be the same as it was last winter.
Thankfully Aaron doesn't seem to be doing too bad. It started with a scratchy throat, some heat behind the eyes, and a little pain in the hips. We went to trivia the night before, he woke up crumby, got a test, and it was positive. He called me while I was roasting coffee at work, so I dropped everything, passed on the SF-25 to the "new Craig" (he's a production guy at the warehouse), and got a rapid nose-poke. Negative. Good news.
So we're fully masked inside, not leaving unless Atom needs to potty, and staying on opposite sides of the room when we're together. And at night, I'm in bed alone.
I miss Aaron. I see him, but I can't touch. We make smooch sounds at each other, but can't kiss. And in just three weeks, I'll be handing over the gift I have for him inside dad's old treasure box.
I hope it all goes well at the Grand Canyon! It'll be a spectacular Perseids.