The Upper Hand

Don’t jinx yourself, people told me, when I’d mention I’ve never had Covid, so maybe I’ll never get it. I am vaccinated and triple-boosted; I once drove my infected and increasingly symptomatic daughter Hannah (we thought it was a cold) round-trip from New Haven to Buffalo, both of us unmasked, and I never got it.

In general, I think the concept of jinxing is ridiculous, but today, I wake to a Covid-exposure like never before, thanks to my stricken husband, who brought it home from Covid Central, a.k.a. his law office. It feels like I’ve arrived at a party I hoped never to attend unfashionably late.

The truth is, as long as no one else in our orbit gets sick, I’m cool. See, I ordered Demon Copperhead on Amazon and it arrived yesterday. It’s a long book, and I’m happily resigned to the long hours I’ll spend alternating between the chills, reading, and dozing. I’ve got my water bottle and am prepared to isolate for days. This way, I lean into the logic that when you take along an umbrella because the forecast includes a chance of rain and it never rains when you’ve got an umbrella, and when you run to the grocery store in dirty sweatpants and uncombed hair you will bump into someone you haven’t seen for ages and know but not that well.

Time will tell, but I like to think of fate not as the omniscient jinx-police but humbling and playful, showing you who’s boss, and I’m responding with a little cosmic reverse psychology.

Anyway, time will tell. I’ll either be right, or I’ll be reading.