The COVID test result came in at 8:30pm this evening. Negative. A wave of relief swept through the house – prisoners no more. Within half an hour I was on my way to the shop around the corner with my youngest daughter – in pursuit of coffee, chocolate bars, and a bottle of wine. A celebration of sorts.
Self imposed house arrest has been lifted, and simple errands are possible once more. I forgot to mention that prior to the test result, we had pulled both of our younger daughters from school and college. Because rules are rules. Our youngest was ecstatic at the prospect of two weeks at home if her sister’s test came back positive. When I explained that she would be doing school work at home, her face fell like a grand piano falling from a very tall building.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have agreed to help my cousin in California with a children’s birthday party. I am required to appear in their living room via the wonders of the internet, flying an aircraft from their local airport to visit Disneyland at Anaheim. The children won’t know it’s a simulator. Let’s hope I don’t stuff it up.