We can ask and ask but we can’t have again what once seemed ours for ever—the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on belfry floor, a remembered voice, a loved face. They’ve gone and you can only wait for the melancholy to pass. ”
―J.L. Carr, A Month in the Country
As you can see, we put down the new carpet for Thanksgiving. It lightened up the room somewhat. Everyone liked its neutral tones, about which I felt merely neutral. Still, it was good to have newness underfoot, and to not have broken the bank to achieve it. I'll be happy to switch out those tired old couches in another month or two. We’ll also probably let go of that way-past-its-prime brown armchair, and have one less piece of furniture in the space. But I may choose to keep the red curtains after all. A punch of color may be welcome. We'll see.
Everyone but my cousin from Trinidad has now returned from whence they came, and we're all getting our covid tests, in Boston, in Minneapolis, in Dallas, here in New York City. Results in a day or two. Meanwhile, our son's PCR test came back negative, so all is well there. The New York Post broke a story about some municipal workers presenting fake vaccine ID cards to get around the city's vaccine mandate. I can't quite wrap my mind around this. Instead, I will continue to send up petitions that everyone remains healthy, and that those who do get infected will have only the mildest of symptoms.
Update: All our Covid tests taken today have come back negative, five of us so far. Phew. I think we're gonna be okay.