Four of us went on a trip, three of us got COVID. For a few weeks, the drive-thru test lane at our local CVS was the only place to be. I'm breaking up with nasal swabs for a while. (Photo via CVS)

Good morning, friends!

 

After 18 months of dread and scrupulous avoidance, COVID finally came to my house this month.

 

When the symptoms began, it felt like when your sketchy cousin shows up and nobody's sure if he'll just eat a bunch of food, cop some money from your Dad and leave, or if he's going to murder everyone in the night. 

 

Long story short: Four of us went away for a weekend. My husband, who has a serious heart condition, had just received a booster. The other three of us got breakthrough COVID infections. To keep him safe, we hurried him off to the Shore, away from the sick folk. It was all very Jane Austen-via-South Jersey.

 

In the good moments, I focused on the fact that we knew breakthrough infections could happen and that our vaccines would keep us alive and out of the hospital. It was just our turn to deal with it.

 

Other days, COVID hit me with Big Feelings: Anger at myself for doing everything "right" for so long and still getting infected. Short moments of a sense of relief, like humidity breaking when a summer storm finally hits. And the hours of fever-fueled terror that one of us could still die. 

 

The fear wasn't unfounded. In the 12 days between my positive and negative tests, COVID killed at least 168 people in New Jersey. That's too many families who thought this might be an almost-normal Thanksgiving who will now be missing a loved one.

 

The array of physical symptoms we experienced were all from the standard COVID buffet menu: Coughing, fevers, sore throat, stomach issues. Most were mild, but some felt like the worst flu you've ever had. Migraines and nausea for me, coughing and wheezing for my Mom -- an urgent concern given her COPD. 

 

The loss of taste and smell were the most unsettling for me, and I wept with joy the day I could taste a Mandarin orange from the basket my sweet co-workers sent. Even now, I'm double-checking the gas stove to make sure all the burners are off.  

 

Because we'd all received both doses of the Pfizer vaccine last winter, we felt mostly confident we'd all avoid the hospital and stay alive, and we did. And if the booster can prevent us from getting infected at all next time, even better. I hope you'll get yours.

 

Also this week, casino smoking has to go, The Boss is displeased, your breakfast sandwich needs this, bicycle thieves, and public transit in South Jersey: 

TIME TO STOP THE CASINO SMOKE: When last we checked in on the smoking situation inside Atlantic City casinos, most everyone agreed it's gross and unhealthy, but nobody in Trenton seems fired up to fix it. With nothing changed since, smoking opponents rallied outside Harrah's, looking for some long-overdue action.

 

WHERE'S ROY? This week's Bruce Springsteen Bulletin has Himself unhappy with the cover art of his latest album. The new-issue recording of a "No Nukes" show from 1979, is missing a key member of the E Street Band. Whither Roy Bittan?

 

YOU'RE JUST JELLY: In which our Jeremy Schneider discovers the sweet-and-savory seduction of the bacon, egg, cheese and grape jelly sandwich, and stands up for non-traditional breakfast sandwich condiments in general. I suggest dunking in pancake syrup instead.  

 

COPS BEHAVING BADLY: Who was it stealing bikes from Cape May one night earlier this month? Let's go to the videotape! According to city police, video shows it was two police officers from nearby Lower Township. Come on, man. 

CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE: When it comes to public transportation options -- especially trains -- South Jersey always gets short shrift. Does it need its own public transit agency? One report suggests it does. 

 

Finally, is there anything cuter and more heartwarming than dogs with jobs? Adorable pups learning to be support dogs, farm pooches that herd sheep, even bomb-sniffing good boys, you know the drill. Well get ready for poop-sniffing dogs! Meet Remi, Logan and Sable as they patrol the banks of the Toms River looking for human feces. 

 

I want to make the obvious "it's better than poop-eating dogs" joke, but it's serious business: As Steve Strunsky explains, the dogs' work is necessary to prevent those beach-closing bacterial outbreaks that damage Ocean County waterways.

 

P.S.: Here's your Halloween forecast. Save me a Twix!

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