Spoiler Alert: I do not have COVID.

Scene: Home office in rural Kansas, a middle aged woman coughs softly. 3 a.m.

Kate: Son of a bitch! This is why I don’t talk to people.

Bedroom, 3:15.

K: uh, honey? I have COVID.

H: Huh? COVID?

Cut to downstairs as our heroine is panic ordering groceries and medicine/masks/thermometers and trying to figure out what to binge watch for the next five days (Pokerface wins). She hears the printer going and is slightly confused. The Husband has been panic ordering supplies from Home Depot to build an air filter.

So, I head back upstairs, since it appears we are both up for the night. We decide that the Husband should take a test. He gets the same result.

Which upon review is negative. A quick review of my own test determines that while I am negative for COVID, I am positive for dumb. In my defense, it was 3 a.m. and I was hopped up on NyQuil.


P.S. I’m still giving 2023 side-eye.

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