I’ve Become a Cave Troll

I am feeling better than the last time I posted, really I am.

At five days after the onset of covid symptoms, my symptoms were mostly better, and I’m fever free. I was even a little optimistic. And then I took another at-home covid test. My sample showed positive so quickly and clearly that at first I thought I had a faulty test. I’m serious, like before the third drop could hit the litmus paper. That’s when this blogger’s morale finally hit bottom.

Adjusting to Isolation

You know how you can handle a lot of stuff fine, but then that last straw, no matter how irrational, does you in? I knew there was little chance I would test negative, but I must’ve been holding out hope more than I realized because tears started forming way before the 15 minutes were up. Those five days of us making sacrifices so as not to get Tracy sick: put those on repeat.

You’d think I’d have isolation down by now. I even found a camping chair that fits in the bedroom so I can sit somewhere other than on the bed when I feel like it (not often).

That’s my tiny house stuff in the works, which—as a sign I don’t have this down—is the only thing I feel like doing. Everything else makes me grumpy grumpy grumpy. I hate all TV shows and movies; my knitting is boring (come on, a bag to hang garlic in?!?)’ and I’m too tired and stupid to learn anything new on my ukulele. I reread Pride and Prejudice and started rereading the Aubrey Maturin series. Then I got grumpy with that.

Tracy and I talk through the accordion door only. I haven’t petted Banjo in many days (this is the quick view she afforded me through the window once).

But that was before the massive winds arrived.

Winds Drive Tracy into the Breach

So, our previous view that looked like this:

Now looks like this:

Our neighbor tells me this is the desert version of a brown-out, where so much dirt is in the air it’s like fog. Except right now it’s moving, up to 55 mph sometimes. This isn’t even the worst of the wind; I became so dispirited by it that I stopped bothering to get up and try to take a picture.

Tracy had to take the wind panels off the tent so the gusts could travel through it instead of push against it, which means he had to retreat into the germy air of the trailer, where we can’t even open windows for fear they’ll be ripped from their little angled arms and blow away.

Here’s a shot where the wind has collapsed the tent roof; Tracy had to keep going outside to push it back up so it wouldn’t have added stress. Note how he’s got heavy items on top of lighter items so the stuff in the tent doesn’t blow around.

Time for the Pity Party

So, him having to do everything for me, plus his sleeping on the sofa and wearing a mask indoors and now being indoors all the time—it’s just brought the lead violin to my pity party.

My fever’s been replaced with anxiety (how long will all of this last?) and claustrophobia (adult N95 masks are too big on me for constant use, which wears on me—and don’t you dare think I made that pun on purpose). There’s my new symptom: intense grumpiness. I want my friends to reach out to me because I’m lonely, but I have nothing but sharp rebuttals to all their kind suggestions.

I’ve turned into a teary cave troll with a mild headache and a disposition of panic. If I came across myself while playing D&D, I would run away.

Don’t worry though: my physical self is indeed better. My fever is done and my blood-oxygen level is back to normal. Heck, by the time you read this I might even be back among the land of the living and my all-smiles self.

Be warned though: I wouldn’t offer me any kind of advice just in case I haven’t shaken my teary troll persona yet. And I’m emailing the CDC for them to add that to the list of symptoms. (Okay, that was a troll’s version of a joke, I admit.)

Okay, you guys please take care!