I'm mostly over the probably-COVID bug, but not entirely. I thought I was done with it all last Wednesday. I felt generally OK. COVID test was negative. Still a little more snot to drain from the head, but otherwise normalish. Which was good, because, among other reasons, I had my final umpiring shift of the year that night and I had already missed two shifts; I didn't want to go out with such a whimper.
So I went. It was OK. None of my favored teams were involved and, since it was a playoff championship night, players were a little extra ready to complain about things. Eh. I had to go early, too, because it had rained the night before and I needed to do some groundskeeping before we could play. Thus I was hauling heavy bags of Turface out to the field and dumping them in standing water puddles and such, then raking and digging around base posts to get wobbly bases secure, and chasing off soccer players and such before we even got to the standard game prep. With all that, by the end of the first game I was wiped out. By the time I was done—in anticlimactic fashion, as the championship game ended in a tie and no extra innings could be played because the lights went out on a timer—I was rather exhausted.
And I'm still tired. Despite the series of negative tests, I have to assume this was a COVID infection because no cold has sapped my energy like this for so long a period. I dragged myself out to a social thing yesterday afternoon with some of my softball teammates, over an hour late because I just couldn't get going, and today I'm dragging again.
Anyway, it's pretty much in the just-annoying-not-really-debilitating stage except for this fatigue thing. I hope it runs its course soon.
Meanwhile, it's the last week of the baseball regular season and I have tix for three games this week to watch the Mariners blow their chance at the playoffs in person. Let's hope I have the energy to be properly animated in throwing hands up in the air in disgust when the M's fail to score some more easy runs from third base.