I find myself writing this at 12 p.m., in my bed, on a school day. I woke up an hour ago. I’m wearing pajamas and have no intention of leaving my bed any time soon. Life is good. 

How, you might be wondering, have I managed to evade all responsibility, effectively maneuvering myself into an indefinite hiatus? Simply put, I got COVID and my quality of life has never been higher. 

Easily drinking 4-5 liters of water a day without fear of chunky water and obtaining some 10+ hours of quality slumber each night, I feel as if I’m living in one of those comfortable Scandinavian prisons that you see articles about on Twitter, where the prisoners almost don’t want to leave. I can’t imagine going back to waking up early and dragging my sorry corpse to Jackson-Reed each morning like some plebeian.

Naturally, there are downsides: my nose occasionally runs, I cough once or twice a day, and I don’t get the privilege of homework or taking tests.

Granted, I’m a lucky candidate to get the disease. I’ve got no real risk factors, I’m triple-vaxxed, and I have my own room where I simply must spend my time, consuming all of the media that this golden age of the internet has to offer. 

I am what Ferris Bueller could never be: I don’t even have to fake symptoms, and I get out of school for a week. Bueller labored extensively, putting on a show to fake a variety of symptoms, only to gain but a measly day off from school? Pathetic. Not to mention the fact that he had to hide from his crazed principal who chased him down for missing school. In fact, people scamper out of my way from me whenever I leave my comfort chambers for sustenance, not unlike a bear temporarily exiting hibernation. 

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