A prayer for the living.

So far, I’ve been pretty miserable this year, what with catching the omicron variant and the subsequent isolation I went through (and, I gotta say, work may have its slow spots, but being holed up in my room is boring as shit*). I still needed the bathroom and the kitchen, so my mother came up with a regimen of cleaning up after myself whenever the needs of the room were required.

After the five-day isolation period, I returned to work, as well as built up some strength (I hope) getting rid of the snow around my house. Last Saturday morning saw me making a much-needed trip to the store. I did my usual bobbing and weaving, but thankfully, I had a brand-new N95 mask to protect me. (Real talk: I can’t wear it too long as it tends to compress my nose too much...but better this than a hospital.)

My mother managed to locate some at-home tests for us, which we took today. Surprisingly, we both came up negative! However, that’s not the most amazing aspect. Back in the last week of December, I made an appointment for a booster shot, assuming that my test that I took in the wake of Christmas weekend would bear similar worry-free fruit. I forgot to cancel it. The appointment is for tomorrow afternoon, and if I’d made the appointment today, I’d probably be good around Valentine’s Day.

I’m feeling better - emotionally - than I’ve felt in a long time. Still, even with the protection that’s to come, I think I’ll keep up on the regimen, even if it annoys me. Of course, this likely means I may miss out on going to the movies for a while (if anyone spoils Scream 5 for me, they’re gonna wish they got blown up like the poor bastard in 3).

* - And given my hundreds of soundtracks and unfinished/barely started screenplays aching to be worked on, this statement is particularly damning. Maybe, it's time to do what Dad so menacingly told me to do over the years and get rid of some of the CDs.