Somehow today, Friday, seems extra bleak to normal.
Because the children are off school and it’s been tipping it down and bleak most days, I have been inside most of the week aside from the odd windy rainy walk alone.
I have a tickle in my throat and feel fatigued and so any meetings with loved ones feels like a major moral choice. I daren’t see my mum in case the wind blows wrong and in case I have this plague and the one’s I love go down.
I want to kiss the very one I love and yet to do so could be contagion.
I do not live with the one I love and
the days stretch far and long since we have touched or I have breathed his air or heard his voice.
We argued. And now the distance feels catastrophic as the wind howls and the oppressive white skies press down onto this confused land and my lonely mind.
The days stretch out like grey vile roads with nobody on them, not even the pleasure of rain. Just steely grey, long cold road. No end in sight.
I have refused good work because of this glandy, tickly.. fatigued feeling.
I have contemplated a government covid test but it means others in my home can’t work,
they’d have to isolate. I’d have to lie about symptoms to get the test. It’s like a catch 22 shitheap. I couldn’t say- give me the test, I just don’t feel quite right and my throats a tad odd and I’m terribly tired but I so want to hold my lover.
Then the ‘household’ would be plunged into uncertain Isolation. Household. This fills the Household with fear. They have bills to pay and anxieties to live and things to do. Not just stay inside and wonder if a disease is incubating, so I can be clear I am not carrying a plague that is deadly to some.
I just have to wait to see if the tickle is a malevolent one.
Covid is like depression. Uncertain. Inexplicable. Unapologetic and Destructive.