A bag of chips for dipping, instead of the bag of broken pieces Cornershop delivered the other night.
I’m not unreasonable. I just want to be able to concentrate. Sudden noises make me irrationally angry. There’s a word for that: misophonia. My 19 year old son, who is a young adult with autism, is home from school until early January, the Omicron strain of Covid-19 permitting. Otherwise, who knows? God love him, he is noisy. A distraction is still a distraction, even if the kid is cute.
I woke up yesterday from a nap feeling like death. Could be the common cold, could be Omicron. Assume that it is coronavirus and isolate for 10 days, say the experts. And a Merry bloody Christmas to you, too.
The situation with a lack of qualified staff to administer booster shots in Ottawa has already forced me to book appointments in Belleville over two days next week. I have to bring Son and Daughter with me, bear the expense of a hotel room and meals, and two days of missed work.
But that’s okay, right? Ontario has a new highway from Cottage Country to the GTA! And Toronto’s subway system is getting an overhaul! All with funds taken away from Education and Health Care. It makes me want to yell at clouds.
So what’s a grandma to do? I work from home. I’m currently dealing with explaining to a teenage boy who will only eat double cheeseburgers from McDonalds that I cannot afford to order lunch from one of the apps. Not if we’re going out of town next week for jabs. Someone will get a Lion King right over my apartment balcony if I have to go anywhere near a hospital ER or ICU this weekend.
I’ve got to go back to paid work now. So this weekend, for all of our sakes, keep your gatherings small; masks up and covering your mouth, nose, and chin; and wash your hands.