Louise O'Neill: assembling a Shovel List to keep tabs on Covid-era annoyances
Louise O'Neill. Photo: Cathal Noonan
I have been feeling increasingly fed up this week. It could be the colder weather, the dark sky falling earlier and earlier with each passing day. Or maybe it’s because Covid seems to be creeping closer; anecdotally, I know more people now who have the virus than ever before.
A friend messaged me from her sick-bed to say how exhausted and miserable she is, warning me to be careful. “You don’t want to get this, Louise,” she said, and I agreed. The thought of isolating for two weeks is one thing, I could get over that. It’s the prospect of losing my sense of smell and taste that horrifies me.
