Quarantine is like 60 Days In. Without the shank.
I can't freely discuss our quarantine because, number one, it violates HIPAA laws. Number two? There is no number two. It's a law for a reason, people.
Quarantine is to prison shows as covid is to lice. (This is why this post came with a warning.)
When you get covid, which I am neither confirming nor denying (see above: HIPAA) you have to tell people. But just as in the case of lice, you don't really want to tell people. Moreover, you're probably telling people that you are close to and friendly with and possibly related to by blood or marriage. You feel awful. "Hey guys, I know we were hanging out the other day, but we just found out Child A has lice." They're like, "Oh no. We feel so bad for you! That's the worst." But at the same time as they are texting that to you, they're also yelling to their husband, "What the hell?!? CHECK THEIR HEADS! When was the last time we saw them? Did you hug them? STRIP THE BEDS!"
Ok. That may just be how I respond. I don't know. Perhaps you are a calmer person than I am. Don't get on your high horse. It is definitely not hard to be calmer than me.
You have to tell the school. Are you the parent of the original lice kid? Like is your kid with the lice patient zero? Or can you blame someone else? Who else in this classroom has lice? I know we weren't the first ones! You want to know; who had the lice FIRST? This doesn't really matter. Yet it matters.
Actually, it kind of does matter with regard to covid. But we're not talking about covid, we are talking about lice. Follow along.
No, for real, this story is really about lice.
I have a dear friend (actually it's my sister, but I'm calling her a dear friend to protect her privacy). My dear friend called me at 6:50 a.m. on a Monday morning. When I answered I just said, "Tell me." No good news is coming to you at 6:50 on a Monday morning.
As she started to explain, I couldn't really hear anything past the word "lice." Like a strange buzzing sound filled my ears, my vision blurred and held on to the side of the nightstand. I was so torn between running for the children and wanting to pull every sheet, towel, pillow and stuffed animal out of my house, pile it in the driveway and light a match.
Do you know there are lice removal experts who have a giant machine that heats up and they press it all over your scalp and it kills lice instantly? It's a salon, but it's filled with bugs and the smell of burning hair? It's not relaxing and decidedly not a retreat spa. They don't offer you a robe and champagne there but they should. Actually, they should just give you a shot and a beer as you sit in the chair and have your hair singed off.
The lice removal expert woman, who is destined for sainthood, was explaining the process while I was writing the check. She could have said any price. Literally, this treatment could've cost anything and I would've paid it. I don't care if that check would've bounced all the way to the bank, I would pay all the fees with our bug free hair blowing in the breeze.
After we were deloused (are you scratching yet? You're scratching your head aren't you? Hang in there. If I say lice one more time you're going to be in the mirror examining your scalp like a crazy person.) So after the procedure is when the real work begins. We went home and I pulled everything that wasn't nailed down out of every room. Blew up my washer and dryer for three days and ran the vacuum until my hands were blistered. Honestly, I got a blister. I know, I know...you can't believe what I put myself through for my children. Me and the lice expert lady. Sainthood.
You have to keep checking over the next few days to make sure you're in the clear. Let's say two weeks. So we all agree...or the experts tell us...that two weeks and it's safe for you to be around others again. Which is a relief because two weeks of worrying and checking and non stop cleaning and worrying some more and not seeing anyone that you love is a lot. You survived! You can leave your house and hug the people you love. And now they won't get your bugs!
Or your bug. Thank God.
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