When covid finally came for me, it waited until the day after Christmas. I might have gotten it from my husband, who developed an odd dry cough a few days after recovering from a cold. Or I picked it up at Christmas Eve dinner, as did my cousin, a family friend, and my parents. Most everyone is feeling much better now, but we did cancel a lot of festivities.
I went so long without catching this dumb illness that I’d become convinced I was resistant to it, either thanks to an incredibly robust immune system or the case of fauxvid I caught in Ireland in 2016. Sadly – much like a pop star willing to oversaturate the market with endless variations of songs we’ve all heard before – covid is always dropping a new banger that never seems to improve on the previous release.
I mostly rotted on the couch, texting my husband in his ISO-9000 clean room on our third floor. I finished a cult book, as brain fog prevented me from making headway with my Lord Cromwell. I watched all five Jason Bourne movies (my observations about how easily Jason Bourne manages to elude the global might of the CIA by doing things like taking a bus still stand) and most of Downton Abbey. I dove down many a Reddit rabbit hole and probably permanently fucked my Instagram algorithm by squinting incomprehensibly at some of the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen. (I’m sure it’s for this reason that the world suddenly seems much more untethered and crazy than ever before, right? Right?)
Thanks to Paxlovid (I’m guessing, anyway, who knows how long covid really plans to stay), I tested negative fairly quickly. My observations about Paxlovid are that it is mostly worth it if you can get over the inside of your mouth tasting like a handful of pennies rinsed in watered-down Negroni backwash, which is very disgusting and yet somehow doesn’t go far enough. Another gross thing I recommend is this betadine gargle (sounds tempting, no?) that definitely helped my terribly painful throat.
Once everyone in the house stops hacking and sniffling, we plan to re-run our New Year’s Eve dinner later in the month. I have been cheated out of at least one bottle of champagne and several morning coffees with Bailey’s, and I cannot abide that.
I’ve talked before about how I don’t make resolutions. I know it works for some people! But for me, there’s not much point in making arbitrary declarations about how I intend to fundamentally change a core behavior based on…the calendar. For that reason, I tend to hate shit like this – which undoubtedly will sell some Apple Watches and also help a lot of people feel bad about themselves for free – and I’ve noticed an uptick in blatantly insane garbage like this:
I mean, I think we can all agree protein is important, but I’m not sure it belongs above “connecting with friends.” Surely CREATINE does not come before your loved ones? Has everyone gone fucking crazy? Obviously the answer is yes, but I beg some of you to save these things to a folder in your phone labeled “Secret Plan To Fight Inflation.”
In lieu of resolutions, I prefer to scroll back through a year of photos, which helps recapture not only meaningful memories but also all of the dumb shit you do as a person with a phone camera, including taking many detail shots of an old sweater you want to sell on Poshmark for $16, a weird dead bug you want to show the exterminator, the funny thing your dog’s ear did that one time, and other life detritus that you would otherwise lose forever. Isn’t technology great? Aren’t we lucky? Haha.
Speaking of memorable pictures, this is a screenshot of a text exchange my husband and I have been laughing about for almost a decade. (He’s grey, I’m blue.)
A television note: In an ongoing effort to understand spoken French, my husband and I have started watching Call My Agent! known as Dix Pour Cent in France. The show is about a Parisian talent firm and each episode features French stars playing themselves. (The Monica Bellucci episode – where bumbling and recently dumped agent Gabriel comes close to pulling off the rebound hookup of a lifetime – is among my favorites.) If you’re good with subtitles (or are fluent in French, I suppose), I highly recommend it.
Finally – I meant to post this on Instagram on New Year’s Day but forgot due to I was sick for the five hundred twenty seventh day in a row – here is a little time capsule for you:
Will humans continue to prevail 25 years later?! Stay tuned!