Earlier this week I both took a Covid test and wore a face mask for the first time in a long time. I hadn't been planning to do either.
I really didn't think I had Covid. I had a wicked sore throat, and barely any voice, so I wasn't going to church anyway, but I finally decided to take the test. If it turned out negative, Porter could reassure choir members that I hadn't exposed him—at least not to that—and if it were positive, I would have the reassurance that I was being given an immunization better than any vaccine could.
Taking a Covid test is a lot less stressful if you really don't care about the result.
As I had expected, it was negative.
For some reason, that knowledge didn't help either my throat or my voice. Covid-19 must not be the only virus game in town. At least I had the "it's not Covid" reply at the ready should anyone ask.
The face mask? That was because I had to go to the grocery store. I know masks are no longer considered particularly useful at stopping the spread of viruses, but it was completely effective for what I asked of it: encouraging other people to keep their distance, and shielding me from their dirty looks should I be afflicted by a sneeze or a cough.
The only really scary part of the experience was how normal the mask felt after the first few minutes.