It’s beginning to look a lot like Covid

It’s beginning to look a lot like Covid

Hello, internet. I am writing to you from the charming village of Sunningdale, England, on my fourth day (we think) of having Covid. There are five days to Christmas and six days (maybe) left of my isolation. Right now, my symptoms are a sore throat in the morning, a headache that comes and goes (a pulsing headache that lasted hours was my first symptom… I thought it was a hangover), a pathetic cough that sounds like I’m faking it, and “the sniffles.”

I go for walks in the backyard like a large dog, and I get homemade meals delivered to my room on a tray like the fricken Queen. I also have major brain fog and couldn’t subtract four from ten earlier and spilled Lemsip (British NeoCitran) on myself and cried. I would probably do those things without having Covid, so I guess you could say I’m doing fine. Truthfully, I’m feeling a little pompous because I can finally relax (sort of).

I can assure you I did not want Covid for Christmas, and I’m concerned about giving it to anyone in the house that I’m isolating in. However, while being on holiday in a place where Covid is rampant, I kind of accepted that getting it was a very likely possibility. When you go out to a bar in London during happy hour (and a “major incident”) and drink watered-down cosmopolitans from a teapot, a positive Covid test isn’t exactly a surprise. Although my boyfriend went everywhere I went, drank everything I drank, shared the same bed, toothpaste and chapstick, yet he keeps testing negative so riddle me fucking that. Actually, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.

Anyways, despite my impeccable timing, I feel lucky to be double vaxxed (Pfizer, if you’re wondering, save your theories) and to be isolating in a safe, warm home with people who are looking after me and can get snacks. I also feel lucky that my symptoms have been minor. I am not naive to the seriousness of this virus and the toll it is taking on health systems and people worldwide.

If you’re looking for medical advice, you’re better off finding it in a meme than here because as group chats are buzzing about the latest stat and news pundits everywhere are playing doctor, I could not give a heck. My anxiety changes depending on which clickbait I read, but my patience has officially left the building.

I will continue to be socially responsible and try not to be an idiot. But I am no longer entertaining the idea that I know anything about this ever-changing, contagious virus — there are actual smart people out there who are working on that and me sharing an infographic that I didn’t fact check isn’t helpful. (Neither is writing this, but I have nothing else to do.)

So, my question is then, what can I do? How can I help or make myself useful once I recover from this fucker, get my booster and become Miss Immunity? What is my post-Covid purpose? Does life just go back to a flip-flop of either A) Staying home and watching people I don’t know foam oat milk on TikTok while I wait for the pandemic to be over or B) Going out and watching people I don’t know foam oat milk on TikTok while I wait for the pandemic to be over? I can do better. And for now, I can and should stop drinking red wine with Paracetamol and get some rest.

Oh, and a very Merry Christmas to you too, Covid, you sneaky bitch.

Hello

Hello

Hello, hi.

My name is Meredith Adelais Catherine Tuthill Hardie.

Meredith is fine.

I like writing (some days), so this blog is my attempt to do that.

I’m not good at bios, so here’s an “About Me” that someone who is definitely not me wrote.

Okay,

bye.

Copinghagen

Copinghagen

So far, if I were to write a “36 Hours in Copenhagen” for The New York Times, it would consist of the following: See people do heroin while en route to hostel. Eat all-you-can-eat sushi with three strangers. Drink a little too much a lot too much at The Drunken Flamingo. Go to McDonalds at 4 a.m. and accidentally offer french fries to a prostitute.

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