While I don’t have my test results to show if I do have Covid-19, my mind has already been made up. I’m certain that I have it. My symptoms are too on the nose for it not to be. It could be the flu. Sure. Though I highly doubt that. Getting really sick during a pandemic usually means you have the illness.

To occupy my time, I’ve been racking my brain trying to decipher when it was I could have contracted the disease. What I have discovered is that everything that’s happened (in the world and in my own personal life) has made time do this weird bend, where I have no concept of its length and therefore is hard to place events. It really, really sucks.

Now I am not a willy-nilly, “I’m going to do whatever I want” person. If I go anywhere it is with purpose and it is done as quick as possible. I am also a mask man, 100%. I have returned to work, inspecting people’s homes to assess value. And as I do work, the mask is on. Immediately following each assignment I return to my car and wipe down my equipment with Clorox wipes and use hand sanitizer. I have been very cautious. The only time I’ve thrown any kind of “caution to the wind” was going to a Chinese food restaurant when things first reopened.

That one event was so uncomfortable, I have since not attempted to repeat any form of in-house dining. If I do get food or drinks outside of my own home, I pay with my phone. I don’t want to exchange cash with anyone for fear of catching it. (Sidenote: the restaurant was so long ago it couldn’t be the moment I caught it.)

So HOW THE FUCK did I get it?!

What makes it even more difficult is my husband and I showed symptoms almost simultaneously. Which means we came into contact with the same source at the same time. So it couldn’t have been from this one inspection I did where I (god why) went into the room of a sick girl. (I’m internally screaming). My husband wasn’t there.

And later it was told to me that the girl was “sick” from menstrual cramps. So where the fuck?!

The fact of the matter is this is a highly contagious illness and everyone (and I do mean everyone, including me) are acting like idiots. We’re driven to stay “alive” and that essentially means making money. Because without it we’re fucked. No food. No house. We’re dead.

At the end of it all, it doesn’t matter where I got it. I (possibly) have it. Knowing where or when will change nothing. So I have to let the obsession go. I can only surmise my need is due to this want to “correct” my mistakes. But this is kind of a one and done situation.

At this point all I can hope for is a negative result. Which is highly unlikely.

If it is positive… I just have to figure out how to care for my mother, how long do I have to wait to see people, and will this be a quick recovery. That last one has my stomach in knots. Because I’m reading some shit that has me fucked up. And I’m even more scared of the future. Life just keeps delivering.