I send a message to Neil, the iron monger, to update him on brackets I'll need for the garage shelf. I could go out and buy brackets but want to follow through with the detail. It will cost a lot more. It's Friday night basketball and I go to the gym to watch my girls but get sidetracked downloading and signing changed documents for the house purchase. Nic and I put in an offer of $381,000 but they wanted $389,000 we predictably met in the middle. Having signed a 21 page document, I just have to redo one and send it to Nic's lawyer up north. I go into the Social Science office where there's an informal beer drinking session. I'm on a high and have one while I do my paperwork.
In the gym the girls are getting beaten but holding their own. My mind is elsewhere. This house purchase feels too easy: the price is well below what we had been looking at for more or less the same thing, and we had almost given up hope. I was considering other options thinking buying down in Central was beyond our reach. It will be a relief to get this sorted. I keep wondering how much our money in the bank has been decreasing in real terms.
I get out the door early on Saturday to launch the AFS stand at the Careers Expo in the Arena. It's been going since Thursday and is slow. I'm relieved by another AFS'er in time to take Kahu to rugby then drive around doing errands before going to his game at Hagley Park. They're playing a better team game and Kahu's shoulder seems to be holding out. It's a late finish and we go back to the Arena to help pack up. I drive Kahu home then drive to Dave Hansbury's to pop in to his 70th birthday party. He's hired a marquee and got caterers so I drive home to change. The meal starts at 4:30 and Bertie and I get there late. There's half the number he has catered for but with his head injury he doesn't seem to care. We stay late and talk to David's friends long after he's gone to bed, exhausted.
My
Covid Diary
Day
1, Sunday, 29th May
I feel fine when I get up but when I start to do jobs I don’t. I think it’s because I’m unmotivated to pick up the tasks I’ve neglected for so long. So I forge forward vacuuming Kahu’s car, spraying solution on the silicon of the tiled showers, tidying, picking up. I put one foot in front of the other. Robyn arrives to take me to an art exhibition at Rangiora where Ros is showing. Turns out Rachel is too. I’ve never seen her art and it is indeed an obvious reflection of her lens on the world. Unusual. There’s no food or drink which I’ve been looking forward to all day. Covid rules in a library. Takes from the bonhomie resulting from a convivial drink and I just want to get home. Hasy is home sick so I invite Ros to celebrate. As soon as we step inside I feel overwhelmed by the people, the noise, the hospitality I have engineered for myself. We eventually leave for a UC music dept show I’ve organized tickets for in town. It’s at the Dark Room, small, crowded, intimate. Students perform covers in an ad hoc, unrehearsed way. It’s refreshing and I sit back and soak it in. Bertie stays for a few hours. I finally relax.
Day
2, Monday, 30th May
I wake up feeling like shit, knowing I should call in sick but thinking I’ve got things planned after school I want to do, and generally in denial. So I get myself to our 7:45 departmental meeting which turns out to be well-being focused with croissants and time for a chat. I talk myself through the day, keeping a low profile. Period 6 I need to teach the last of the research standard to my Year 13’s but it’s an effort. When the bell goes I know this will be it for a while. I drive to the Spin class thinking I shouldn’t be there, but I need the exercise and this is my new routine. Hard to put the brakes on for any illness. Bertie and I go to another UC music event, flute and guitar, highly polished, modernist, fascinating. Melanie sits beside me. I keep my mask on. She leaves part way through as the music is too modern for her. I go home and take a RAT test which is predictably positive. I text the info through to Pete Gill, in charge of school relief, and Corinne, HOD, as well as friends I’ve seen recently. Not Melanie. Then I watch TV with a sense of relief; I’ve finally got Covid. I’m feeling shit, I can stay home. I can stop. I’ve joined the global gang.
Day
3, Tuesday, 31st May
I
wake feeling decidedly under the weather. Because it’s what I do I make myself
tea and head back to bed where I scroll Marketplace, making a couple of
purchases. Online shopping, even second hand, is a habit I need to break.
Especially since I have too much stuff and am trying to sell and reduce. Phones
in bed, they’re a killer. But I do catch up with mates on the Friday drink chat
group I haven’t attended it. A few of them have got it…Pete Hattaway, Darren.
Debs is coming out of hers. Ros and Robyn haven’t got it yet.
I send a couple of e-mails through to Corinne till she tells me, no more. She’s right. I need to get out of work mode. Bertie arrives and sits on my bed to chat. He fusses round like a nanna. I tell him I don’t need anything but he goes away and gets stuff anyhow. I pick up some Home and Garden magazines which have been hanging around by my bed forever and start to go through them for recipes. I get up and decide to tackle a job that’s been hanging about in the garage. But I’m moving slowly. I get it done then sit on the blue chair on the verandah in the sun where I read The Absolute Book by Elizabeth Know for the second time. She’s a Kiwi with an unusual take on reality. As it transpires the mood is a bit edgy to soothe my Covid ravaged brain but I plod on. The main character, Taryn, is having a similar experience. My world is so slow. Jorge sits on his device but opens the door to Anjie who brings round a care package: fruit featuring lemons, RAT tests, a Flake bar, a steak pie, an Indian dinner kit, ice blocks, red wine. She’s just had Covid so knows what I need. By mid afternoon I’m feeling cold and need to lie down. Bed with my electric blanket. I nap, the world passes, time ticks on. I get up to eat and watch TV. It’s a relatively early but restless night for me. I prop myself against my pillows because my blocked nose means I start breathing through my mouth which gives me a sore throat. So I spend the night blowing my nose. A restless sleep.
Day
4, Wednesday, 1st June
My brain is in school routine and I wake early. Tea then coffee and food in bed. More Marketplace purchases. I need a process where I save and come back a day later. I read more Home and Gardens, rip out recipes then shower. Covid routine. The magazine recipe file I’m creating has one for green tomato and green apple chutney. I’ve got both so I start making it. I think Jorge will help, but he’s busy on his phone. Finding spices I uncover the holy mess my food drawer has become. I’ve stuffed three drawers into one and over three months it’s become chaos. I strip it down, combine, reduce and throw out, wipe, then put back. Not perfect but better. Ros comes by to drop in cherry tomatoes she’s brought up from Wanaka. She’s bubbly, still no Covid for her. By the time I’m finished the chutney I’ve had it. Bertie arrives for a burrito then I collapse on the blue chair where he puts a duvet over me then tackles the dishes. I need to be in bed to be warm and sleep. I wake later and want attention. My throat is too scratchy and I haven’t got the energy to call out. I wait but Jorge doesn’t appear. My resentment builds and by the time Tina comes home late from a big day of trivia, her words, at Harcourts Gold, I’m grumpy and unwell. She brings in soup and toast and gets out her remedies. There’s a vitamin C pill, yuck, and an immune liquid, eeuwh. I’m hoping the pseudo-science behind them will do something. We watch an episode of Ozarks and I fade. I spend another night propped against my pillows blowing Covid mucus out of my nostrils.
Day
5, Thursday, 2nd June
As
soon as I think it’s morning I check my phone. I’m relieved to see it’s an ok
time to make a cuppa. 6am. Gives me leisure to read, update blog, flick through
mags. Jorge surprises me by asking if I need anything and offering to make me a
lemon, ginger and honey drink. Redemption. It’s what I need. I’ve planned a
Marketplace pick up and, though I don’t feel like it, get in the car. I drive
slowly, my brain slow. The pick up is a carved wooden tiki face. It’s
beautiful, from the past but recent. Looks like an old souvenir but hard to
say. Once home, I hang sheets out. I need to keep my sick bay fresh. I get
Jorge to help me dig compost. There are so many worms. I put it down to the
combination of horse dung and seaweed I’ve slung in. There’s no sign of the
seaweed which surprises me as I put some in not too long ago. The wild life in
the compost heap must love it. Jorge and I top up the two end boxes on the
verandah. It’s close to two years since they were built, a late addition. Not
sure what to plant in the one by the kitchen as it doesn’t get a lot of sun,
but I’m so happy I have them.
I make burritos for lunch then sit before going to lie down in bed. The afternoon has gone before I know it. Light closes the outside world early, Covid closes the inside one. I make myself get up in the evening and feel better upright, helps my nose drain. Tina puts a Breathe mix of essential oils on a tissue and I spend the evening sniffing and pressing pressure points round my sinuses. I watch TV with Lambertus, staying up late to avoid the mucus onslaught when I lie prone. After watching the cheery choice of Chernobyl, I get to bed about 1am; this time I sleep through.
