Thursday, September 22, 11:30 AM. Amy.

Claire didn’t come down this morning at her usual time, so I went up and checked on her. I found her in bed, shivering under the covers with a runny nose and dark circles under her eyes. She had a fever of 101.5°. Brewer carried her downstairs and we got her set up on the living room sofa. I gave her acetaminophen, and that seems to have helped. Our COVID handwashing and mask-wearing skills are coming in handy for trying to keep the rest of the family safe.

This is a moment I’ve been dreading. I had hoped that since we’re not in contact with other people, we couldn’t contract diseases. Evidently that hope was misplaced.

I’m sure it’s only a cold. Is it an old wives’ tale that you catch cold from being cold? (Is “old wives’ tale” a sexist idiom? Does it even matter anymore?) Claire was cold yesterday, searching for the cat in the wet after the storms. It certainly appears that’s how she got it.

She’s sleeping now. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup in a while and see if I can get her to eat it.