Some quarantine decisions are easy: we won't be keeping our weekend plans with anybody who's starting chemotherapy on Monday. Other decisions are not so easy. If we caught the bug at the library, we don't need to stay home from story hour tomorrow. If from our playdate, then we know at least one family we can play with this week. Heck, if we knew the bug to be roseola, we could shrug, mumble something about it being common and mostly harmless, and pretend there was nothing to see here. But the Please Touch Museum is in another city two hours away, and half the riders at the finish line were from the DC area, and this might not be roseola, so maybe we're New Jersey's patients 0, 1, and 2.
If Gareth were in daycare, we'd be facing this quandary at least once a month. Great googly-moogly, how do parents with kids in daycare survive?
(Oh, and it looks like I've overcome my swearing habit. Heck? Great googly-moogly? Those really were the first words that popped into my head for those sentences. Another year of childrearing, and people will hardly be able to tell I live in Jersey.)
Dan's well enough to cook...sort of.