The dreaded pink line - covid strikes

Back in the day, when I sat waiting to see a pink line on a little dipstick, I was hopeful. Am I pregnant? Yes? Joy! Love!

Since 2020, we sit hoping fervently that no line appears.  Up until last weekend we had three years of good luck - no line. But maybe the dreaded pink line is everyone's eventual fate. In a way it feels good to have the years of worrying and evasive maneuvers behind us, at least for a little while. 

Well, not quite behind us. For now we are commiserating - sharing aches and fatigue, sharing chores,  side-by-side paxlovid prescriptions, comparing notes on our various symptoms and side effects   ---

"Do you have an awful metallic taste in your mouth?"
"Yes! What is that?"

Apparently "paxlovid mouth" is a thing. We share, with the unlucky minority, this particular side effect of ritonavir, part of the paxlovid cocktail.

However, we are hardly unlucky. Here's a few reasons why:

• Other than a daughter's baby shower (sad to miss), we are missing nothing significant. Our travels are completed. Our work can be done remotely. It's a quiet week. 
• Lots of wood in the woodbox. Fires on  chilly nights. 
• Good books.
• Spring birdsong.
• The world of remote working and socializing is deeply established. Isolation does not feel so isolating any more. 
• Paxlovid! Covid is treatable and not so dire any more. 
• Jonathan and I are couple-sick, not alone. We can hug or curl up together to watch TV.
• The discovery of Poldark. And new Ted Lasso episodes on Wednesdays.
• Kind friends who deliver groceries and chicken soup. 

We're going to be okay.  Thanks everyone!*
*(researchers, pharmacists, the medical community, friends, family, birds...).