Vocabulary Lesson for Today: A “fomite” is an object or substance capable of absorbing, retaining, and transporting contagious or infectious organisms (from germs to parasites) from one individual to another. This can include dirty towels, eating utensils, and surfaces such as floors, walls, and tables. My Mom’s entire apartment is a fomite right now.
My self-imposed quarantine yesterday had me locked indoors except for a brief trip to the walk-in clinic, but today I’m feeling improved (still look like a puffy waxwork version of myself, but I feel better) and am getting restless. And it’s snowing! The desire to go outside is overwhelming.
So I’ve decided to make a trial run to get some pants I bought on Boxing Day hemmed to fit me, and proceed from there. I may pick up a coffee while I’m out, to remind myself that there are hot beverages that aren’t tea. All of this counts as baby steps towards [drum roll] the 5km ‘Resolution Run’ I’ve already paid to do tomorrow morning at 9:30am in the Distillery District. Bad idea? Maybe. But I’m full of bad ideas, so screw it, I’m going.
During my indoor stint, I’ve watched a lot of fluff TV, but I also cracked open Stuart McLean’s ‘Stories From the Vinyl Cafe’. This book has been around for 10 years, and I know a lot of CBC devotees who have extolled the virtues of ‘Dave Cooks the Turkey’ and other amusing tales, but although I’ve owned this book for ages I never got around to reading it. I made my way to ‘Stewart’, the story about the snoring, farting dog and started to snicker and giggle out loud. Then I read the next story, ‘Driving Lessons’ and by the time I got to the part about the red Honda I was actually crying and hyperventilating with laughter. Good stuff.
Okay, off to shower and then head out with my surgical mask and oxygen tank in tow.