When you feel blah after staying up all night and partying with your friends and you think you might have covid. The next day is shot. While laying on the couch most of the now afternoon, you think that rather than going to the store and getting a covid test kit (ludicrous), you cut to the chase and assume you have covid. Then you talk about how you have covid for a few days. You garner support from like minded-lazy, but pragmatic-suspious types like yourself. You start walking around like you are ill. Maybe take the day off from work. Maybe a week. How much sick time do you have? Maybe you don’t go home for the holidays. Plane tickets are expensive. Sleep in your shitty childhood bed? Maybe your neighbors bring you soup. You could get used to this. Until the next time you get to party with your friends.
I’m seriously testing positive for Covid after that party last night. I’m fucking spent!
Fogey/fogy /fougi/ sl. (early 18C+, orig. Scot) old-fashioned, stuck-in-the mud.
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
You think me an old fogeyand an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connel’s time. I remember the famine. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connel did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. (James Joyce, Ulysses. Penguin Books,1992. p. 38)