Positivity has its Limits

So I’m an “up” kind of person, sometimes because I really am up, but not always. It’s work sometimes. I work at being up, seeing the bright side of things. A glass half full kind of girl (because I consciously choose which words to use). I think I’m actually a bit depressive by nature, and I just don’t want to be that way so I decide not to be. When I hear myself complaining, I make myself stop. I don’t always succeed.

The news is that my nose is pregnant. Those COVID self tests look a lot like pregnancy tests, and my nose is going to give birth to a bouncing baby ball of phlegm. With a cough. And a bit of fever. And we’ll see what else COVID has in mind for me. The PCR test confirmed it and I officially have to isolate. For the moment, I feel sick so it’s not going to be a problem, but I go outside every day. I have enough food for several days (which is not always the case!) By the time I need anything more, the quarantine will be over.

I wish my test wasn’t positive, of course. Positivity has its limits. There is a case to be made for being too positive about things. I could accept a negative test. That would be hunky dory. I wouldn’t even bat an eye.

So me and Foro are going to have some quality time together. He’s been getting a lot of hugs (because I need hugs and there’s no one here to hug me! My partner is also feeling unwell but he’s at his place, and he’ll get the results of his test tomorrow.) Foro’ll need a wash to get my COVID slurping cleaned off of him, but that’s a task for several days from now. For the moment, it me and Foro and hugs. And that’s some positive news….