It was just one week ago when I went into work wearing this blue and white plaid shirt. I was nursing a stuffy nose, which turned into something else by the time I left work that evening.
On Tuesday, I was barely able to wake up and get to work. Once there, I took a Rapid Antigen Test. It came back positive for COVID in less than twenty minutes.
Not wanting to infect anyone on a bus, I walked up to Centre and South Street in Jamaica Plain and waited for my girlfriend to pick me up. I kept my mask on in single-digit-degree weather until the fog on my lenses started to crystalize.
I finally got into my quarantined office/bed space set up by my girlfriend and her daughter after I called and told her the results.
I didn't start to get better until Friday. After that, my girlfriend started showing symptoms.
On Sunday, she took a home test and tested positive for COVID. She still needs a Diagnostic Lab Test to be approved for her time off. I'll be taking her to that today.
This past week is proof positive that noting--absolutely nothing--good happens when you start the week off wearing plaid.
You Mom might think you look nice, but someone is still going to try and kill you.
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