No matter how low key your celebrations, I know they’re more festive than ours at Casa River this year. Catching Covid and having to cancel our trip derailed our holiday plans and left us too sick to care. No tree, no gifts… though I am feeling better and will cook us a nice turkey dinner with all the trimmings today.
No biggie. I’m at the age where all our grand Christmas celebrations are in the past… and that’s fine.
I did see something that made my heart swell with spirit the other day though…
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Now that’s my kind of tree topper!
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Merry Christmas dear blog friends.
Here’s hoping your home is filled with food, family, fun and if you’re really lucky…. an owl.
Enough already Covid, it’s time for you to let go.
Day 8 for me… and though for the most part I’m better… the nagging cough, nasal congestion and overwhelming fatigue persist. Housework hasn’t been done, laundry is piling up and I can’t seem to find the energy to care.
I cook, cough, eat, blow my nose, do dishes, cough, and repeat.
Husband feels about the same, just a few days behind me. They say misery loves company but at this point I’d prefer to suffer alone and have him do some chores.
So here we sit, binging the entire 5 seasons of Yellowstone because my husband never saw it. He’s always late to popular series parties… but is enjoying the ride now.
Day 6 of my Covid journey dawned with me still feeling crappy… congested, coughing and bone tired,… but I’m less foggy and brain addled so that’s progress. I even managed to feed the cat something more appropriate than Raisin Bran.
I’m gaining.
Not that there’s any rest for the weary when my husband is three days behind me on the plague meter and still in the miserable thick of it.
Having Covid is bad enough, but having to nurse someone else who has Covid while you’re still feeling its effects?
Hell.
And to top it all off, I woke up this morning with absolutely no sense of smell or taste. Nothing. Nada. This worries me, because my girlfriend lost hers for over two years and said it was truly awful.
After avoiding the dreaded ‘Rona for 4 years and tricking myself into believing we were either uncannily lucky or simply immune…
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The modern equivalent of the plague found me and I popped positive for Covid.
Life since has … quite frankly…. been hell.
Four days ago I had a slight sore throat.
Three days ago I took to bed and stayed there for 36 hours barely able to raise my head. Blinding headache, killer sinus pressure, body aches, congestion, coughing, chills, crippling fatigue. I was down for the count. And pretty much on my own because as much as I love my husband, he’s the worst nurse on the face on the planet.
Yesterday I managed a shower and did a victory lap to the kitchen for a bowl of chicken soup. Which I fixed myself.
This morning?
My ever so thoughtful husband stood at the edge of our bed shaking my foot (at 3:00 am…. WTF!) telling me I had to get up and test him.
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So now he’s in bed, where I was three days ago, whining non stop and expecting me…. who, hello? is sick with the very same thing… to cater to his every need. He may be a Marine, but when he’s sick he’s a big fat baby.
Hence, Hell.
Life right now is Hell.
Did I mention I just had to cancel a non refundable week long holiday vacation we’d booked at a fabulous resort in the Berkshire Mountains starting tomorrow? No quintessential Norman Rockwell Christmas in Stockbridge, no horse drawn sleigh ride, (I had to cancel that too) no sipping hot toddies on the Red Lion Inn’s porch.
River's world..... 