Ten Things I Learned About My Room After Quarantining for Ten Days

In which I am fashionably late to this whole "pandemic" thing.

After almost exactly two years of remaining mobile, agile, and hostile toward the Novel SARS-CoV-2/COVID-19 virus, I contracted the illness at the end of February. I was and am largely fine, although the shortness of breath I experienced simply getting out of bed was eerie.

Out of respect to my roommate, who visits his grandparents in their nursing home every weekend, and to the general public, since the decision by the CDC to shorten the quarantine recommendation from ten days to five days was, scientifically speaking, nonsense, I observed a vintage 2020-style self-isolation for ten full days.

I left my place only once, on day seven, taking a brief walk to feel the sun on my face and crossing the street whenever a jogger came by, so my neighborhood probably thinks I hate them now. Otherwise, I only left my room when my roommate was safely closed inside his own, typically later at night or during his midday Peloton workouts. As such, I became extremely acquainted with the bedroom I call…