My recent bout with “the ivy,” as 5-year-old Aidy called COVID (“the virus”) when we were first in its initial, 2020 grips, provided me some serious downtime to watch TV, read, scroll on my phone…and then begin again with the TV.

Happily, since being sick, I’ve continued to enjoy more downtime. At first it was because I was still recovering and fatigued. Now it’s because…regular life is tiring too. And - although I know it’s trite - this experience provided a refresher course on how to rest. Really rest. Not “rest” while you are doing something else productive.

I, like so many of us, have spent a lot of my life preparing to rest. What I have learned is that you have to rest right now.

The rest makes you better when you aren’t well. It makes you more productive when you are busy.

Most importantly, it is so completely enjoyable in its own right.

COVID got me good, but there is no question: I enjoyed being incapable of anything for three straight days, and then not quite ready for prime time for another seven or so. It’s rare that we have the chance to hunker down like that. I took full advantage, and am looking forward to additional weather-related excuses to do the same during the upcoming Connecticut winter.

Here are some of the things I liked while I had COVID, some of the things I like now that I’m resting more often and some things that I’m looking forward to as winter approaches, our down time increases and I tell the children I’ll “be right there,” when they head out to sled across the street, then I very decidedly stay in the house.

“Bad Sisters” on Apple TV. This is a dark comedy set in Ireland, which is an excellent premise for a television show right off the bat. I was completely and immediately hooked, got J into it, and then we watched the remaining episodes as they dropped on Friday nights. Having to wait to watch the latest episode of a show is old-fashioned and thrilling in these immediacy-filled days, and we totally enjoyed the build-up.
Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi. I finished this lovely, melancholy novel in between episodes of “Bad Sisters” and “Never Have I Ever” (my other television binge while recovering). I’m planning to read “Homegoing,” another novel by Gyasi, soon.
Deleting Instagram from your phone. I tried this recently. Not because the experts tell you to. Not because I was feeling jealous of my friends’ vacations and achievements. But because I was indulging way too hard in the Instagram ads they’d specifically tailored to me in my stream. Watching reels about face serums. Listening thoughtfully to an influencer share marketing propaganda about vitamins. And I thought to myself, “Cara, is this how you want to spend even some of your precious time of this Earth?” And the answer was, “Well, maybe some, but not this much!” I deleted my social media apps while I was sick to force myself into a break. The breather was so valuable. Plus, I could fully concentrate on the tv shows, which is very possibly not the best reasoning, but still!
The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh. I read one section every morning I am able (this happened more regularly during the deleted social media period). He encourages us to only drink our tea while we are drinking our tea, and I think, all at once, “That is ridiculous/that is the answer!”
This episode of Life Kit featuring Oliver Burkeman. It’s called “How to Rethink What You Spend Your Time - and Life - Doing.”
Maintenance Phase. This is a podcast that debunks wellness and weight loss trends. It is well-researched, hilarious and fascinating, and I feel like the two hosts, Aubrey Gordon and Michael Hobbes, are my best friends. I don’t know if this happens to the rest of you with podcasts or other media, but I sometimes get so entrenched that I can’t listen to anything else; can’t waver from the particular tone and message of my current fave. This happened with “Pod Save America” during the more turbulent Trump periods, and it happened over the past few months with Maintenance Phase. Because I very much remember the influence of this particular food trend on society, I thoroughly enjoyed their episode on Snackwell’s Cookies if you want to start there.
This recent opinion piece in The New York Times: The Problem With Letting Therapy Speak Invade Everything.
Exploring sectional sofas, and hopefully buying one soon, so that our entire family can sit together and watch a movie, after we have spent over an hour debating the movie we will watch.

Tuesday, 7:23 a.m. - There’s a conversation that all of us have had some version of, and it concerns the getting and spreading of COVID, and how or why we have or have not yet contracted it. We are confused, we are resigned, we are engaging in magical thinking. “I don’t understand this thing.” “My time will come.” “I just don’t think I’m ever going to get it!”

I am going to admit something to you, which is that after Nora had an asymptomatic case of COVID late this summer following an exposure, and in thinking about all my collective exposures including how Gabe had it in January - that, plus a very intense desire to finally have this virus play second or third or fourth fiddle to the glory of regular life - I started accepting that last one: that I, maybe, just wasn’t going to get it.

And that is a cocky attitude, although I didn’t feel particularly cocky, just sort of invincible. Just sort of ready to let this concern fade into nonexistence. Even if I did get it, it would be nothing, I figured. Mild. Like a cold.

So, while I know it wasn’t karma that led me to finally come down with COVID this past weekend - while I know it was, instead, me strutting around living normal life, not wearing a mask in situations where I previously would have, experiencing one of the busiest, most “normal” weeks I’ve had in such a long time (which - to be clear - is something we should all be allowed to enjoy) - it does seem a little bit like karma, you know what I’m saying?

This is what happened:

I started feeling bad late on Friday night. Achy legs. A sense of dread that the inevitable had occurred despite my optimistic assumptions. A realization that “oh my god my children all went to different social activities tonight and I have spread this through them to everyone in the state.” I took a test. It was negative.
I woke up the next morning feeling worse, with a fever, increased aches, chills and a sore throat. I had to force myself to eat some toast so I could take some Tylenol on a non-empty stomach so I could prop myself up in bed and take another test. It was faintly positive. I thought about how I’d attended our school’s open house a couple nights before and likely spread this to all of the teachers and parents and felt like a morally reprehensible individual. I thought about how people had reported “mild cold symptoms.” This was not “mild cold symptoms!”
I spent the weekend in a state of fever tamed by Tylenol doses in our bedroom, watching television and reading, and coming to grips with the fact that guilt and hang-wringing aren’t effective antidotes for an actual virus. I drank tons of water and the occasional fruit punch flavored Gatorade which was the best thing I’d ever tasted. I decided to take a few days off work to continue my recovery. I took one more test because, after taking so very many over the past couple of years I felt I owed myself one ultra definitive double line, and that test delivered. It was very positive.
Which brings me to right about now, on Tuesday, feeling exhausted but much more like myself, on my daughter’s 14th birthday. Gabe got COVID on my birthday, Nora got it on Aidy’s, and I got it on Nora’s. I will choose to look at this as our family’s unique talent.

7:41 a.m. - I had a burst of energy and wanted to get into some redecorating ideas with abandon. Had to talk myself down, refill my water cup for the 800th time and force myself to rest. BORING.

10:46 a.m. Over the past two-and-a-half years I’ve been saying that while I, of course, don’t want to get sick, I would really enjoy a few sick days, watching television with abandon while lying in bed and forgoing my normal responsibilities. I can now state that I have, indeed, enjoyed that part of this whole affair, indulging fully, really forcing myself to rest, although having THE SWEATS tends to put put a damper on one’s enjoyment of things. Also, I think there’s a cap on how long watching endless hours of television is fun and that cap has been reached. Good thing there are birds nesting in our shutters because that is what I am watching right now.

5:23 p.m. - I called J to the door of our bedroom, aka my den of illness, to tell him that I was getting annoyed with all this. I felt alright lying down, but going downstairs to make myself a cup of tea was exhausting. I told him that I was scared of the lingering symptoms some people had with COVID. Shouldn’t I be feeling better? Shouldn’t I be more productive at this point? I was feeling very selfish and a little down. He replied, “Well, WWKD?” This deserves its own post, but WWKD stands for “What Would Kathy Do?” and it’s something he and I say to each other when we are feeling just this way. Kathy, my mother, is one of the most decisive, least fretful people I know, and it is often helpful to think about how she would handle a challenging situation. He left, and I sat there drinking my tea, no television or window birds to distract me from my thoughts. I got up and took a shower. WWKD? She wouldn’t turn being sick - being sick with a virus that, all things considered, I’m handling just fine - into a complicated philosophical crusade, for one thing. She’d take the steps necessary, no fuss. Ok, onwards.

9:21 p.m. - I want everyone to know that when I am lying in bed regaining my strength, and there are a big pile of dishes in the sink, or a pair of dirty socks abandoned on the sofa, I can feel that, in my bones, and it slows down my recovery.

Wednesday, 8:42 a.m. - Day 5, at least I think so (the counting methodology is confusing) and I decided to walk the kids halfway to school; the dog, too. This morning I feel a lot better and leaving the house was sweet liberation. The dewdrops sparkling on blades of grass! HELLO WORLD. I was getting a little over-excited again, and had to stop myself from engaging the children in a spontaneous fall season planning session (apple picking! a trip to the Berkshires!) because it’s probably not fun to for children to try and navigate their parent’s mid-COVID manic scheduling stage (which, I think, is a real stage) so I reined it in. Mostly. “Look at this gorgeous day,” I said. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do? A meditation retreat. Where you meditate all weekend.” I looked at them in anticipation. No response. I asked Gabe if he’d ever want to do that with me. I asked my 11-year-old son if he’d want to do a meditation retreat with me. Maybe I was slightly detached from reality due to the tv consumption, the fever cycle, the constant questioning of my moral compass and physical capacity. But maybe not! “Um, no,” he said.

Things I like: down and out edition

My COVID diary: some initial thoughts