Today I had to go and get myself tested for the virus that threatens us all.
I’m pretty sure if it is a viral or bacterial infection, it is allergy-related and nothing to do with the deadly plague that sits heavily on the world around us. But if you have to consult a doctor about things like this in this particularly grave spot on the road to history, their mandated response is to stick a swab so far up your nose that they can scrape the backside of your brain with it to find out just how twisted and diseased you are (or, depending on how many twists and swirls they give the swab, how crazy and perturbed you are soon to become.)
I will have to wait five to seven days for an answer, positive or negative, and that will delay going to Iowa, if not prevent it completely.
In order to take the torture-test to see if I have or have not the fatal disease, I had to drive to an obscure spot along LBJ Highway, a church it seems, so I was fully drained and tired before taking the nose-mining test of horror. Number Two son was with me to keep me alive, but he could not drive because Progressive wants to further bankrupt us rather than let him drive one of our two vehicles. He is in an age group where, it seems, all the other drivers let him down, rather than allow his own maturity and experience to set the price.
So, this post is quick and complain-y because I am now too sick to write something happy about today. And I must wait for five to seven business days for the license to continue living, or the death sentence the positive test will ultimately probably be.
At least the nurses that stuck swabs up my nostril are promising to pray for me.