Lucky that I never thought of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. as anything other than a crank. Because now I don’t have to die.
It was a week ago Friday that my wife got sick. Her doctor sent us to a walk-in clinic for the more advanced COVID test. She suggested I get tested, too — I had a cough. I almost said no but was trying to be agreeable: OK, fine, whatever, honey. Swab me too, doc.
