Well, crap. How quickly the virus asserts itself.
Just 12 days ago, I wrote about returning to classroom teaching at Louisiana State University. Pool-party clothing was out, to be replaced with business casual – including black socks, well rested after my five months in ankle-length athletic socks.
Old routines were returning. Life seemed … normal?
No.
But closer.
Until Sunday. A voicemail.
“Hi,” a woman said politely but flatly. “I’m calling on behalf of the LSU system Covid-19 contact tracing efforts.”
I gulped, then thought: “Aren’t contact tracers rarer in the U.S. than manatees?”
“I will be giving you a call back,” the woman said. “The next time you see the number, please pick up as the information we provide will be valuable for the health and safety of everyone at LSU.”
Then came an email. In language as constipated as a fossil turd, it informed me of exposure to an “affiliate who has tested positive for COVID-19. Your alleged date of exposure was 09/14/2020.”
I feel OK.
But I am quarantined.
Black socks have been retired.
Again.
Crap.
Again.
