Channeling the Stoic within

I’m set to motor off to the motor city in my motor car today for a week of trade show torture fun. Don’t tell my boss, but it is my firm belief no one ever gained new business from a trade show. Mostly you show off for the other attendees. People come to the show for the free stuff. Look for the busiest booth, invariably they are giving away the best merchandise. Besides, there is some sort of tear in the space-time continuum in a convention center where time only moves at half normal speed. What normally would be an hour is only less than thirty minutes. And this trade show is about automation, so my company has a vested interest, but it is only tangentially related to my customer base. Yes, I’m excited. Why do you ask? 

To top it off, my right foot feels like someone stabbed it in the arch with a hot poker this morning; the usual reaction after I mow the yard on the previous day. Normally, this would pass by resting. Instead I get to go stand on hard concrete for a week in dress shoes. Despite my crybaby antics, I will be fine. 

All this angst and complaining may be in vain. The wife woke yesterday feeling poorly. Heaviness in her chest, cough, and fever are making her feel miserable. All are signs of the dreaded Covid. She slept most of the day yesterday. She took an at-home test that was negative, but she will go for a more semi-accurate test at the clinic today. 

So the end result is all of my complaints may be for naught. If the wife is infected, I can’t go off spreading her germs like a modern Typhoid Mary throughout greater Southeast Michigan. I know, you might be sitting in your chair, but you are only perched on the edge of it as you await the outcome of this riveting story.