Sadly, I took another test for covid this morning and continue to test positive. I think I could have reached that conclusion without the test as I continue to feel rubbish. The experience has taught me one thing at least, namely, don’t trust what “everybody knows”. Before the experience I was told that “everybody knows” that the most reliable symptom of the disease is a loss of the sense of taste and smell. I’m glad to say that the only pleasures left to me in life are eating and drinking, and I can still tell the difference between two varieties of single malt. The dreadful, chesty cough is a bit less debilitating, however, so I do feel that I am making some progress. More surprising, and far more disappointing, however, is the fact that I am completely unable to raise any interest in my painting. If I do anything useful in the artistic direction it takes the form of administrative rather than creative activity. I guess that I shouldn’t complain because the normal state of affairs is an acute neglect of administrative tasks.
Among the puzzling aspects of the situation is the apparent complete immunity of my wife to the wretched disease. She plugs along in a state of robust health, having taken absolutely no precautions to protect herself from her infectious husband, and testing negative. I suppose that I am glad, but curious as to why we were dragooned into a regime of isolation during which subjection to the disease appears to be completely arbitrary, independently of any precautions one might have taken.
I suppose that I just have to get on with it.