The COVID Diaries: Tasteless

Darling Ones,

I lost my taste!* My sense of smell went with it.

When I read about this being a side effect of COVID I had no idea how jarring it would be. What is the point of eating if you can’t taste it? I’m torn between not wanting to eat anything at all, because why waste the food if I can’t taste it, and wanting to take one bite of every thing in my house to see if any of it has any flavor.

For lunch I ate a mashed-up avocado on an everything bagel and it tasted like crunchy nothing with some smooshy nothing on top. I ate an Atomic Fireball and it had less taste than an Everlasting Gobstopper.

I think the last thing I tasted was a ginger cookie yesterday afternoon. I use that memory to keep me warm at night. Just kidding! I get night sweats every night at like three in the morning, so I have no need for warming agents. In fact, while I’m angrily kicking off the covers and relishing in the cool air against my sweaty body I wonder if maybe these are hot flashes. Who fucking knows? Bodies are fun!

One of my new favorite pastimes is lifting the front of my shirt up over my nose and taking a big whiff in the hopes I’ll catch the faintest notes of my lilac perfume. Unfortunately, I smell nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I’m convinced my house smells really bad and I can’t do anything about it because I can’t smell anything. Why would it smell bad? I don’t know. I need something to keep me occupied when I’m not constantly trying to breathe through my stuffed up nose.

Allegedly, the loss of taste and smell can last any where from three days to two weeks. If I have to go two weeks without tasting a cookie I might murder somebody. I’m already planning my celebratory return to taste meal (Thai red curry chicken noodle soup). Also, I am going to eat all of the donuts. And the cookies.

In the meantime I’m trying to think of texture-based foods I like and the only thing I can come up with is instant mashed potatoes. I could probably live off those for two weeks, right?

Tastefully yours,

P.S. I felt so miserable last night I went to bed at nine. I felt like an eight-year-old, but I it was kinda nice. I slept most of the night, except for the sweaty episode. I woke up this morning feeling a little better, but as the day goes on my energy wanes. I managed to complete one work project this afternoon and I was gonna brag about it on twitter, but then it made me sad that I live in a country where even when I’m struck down by a literal plague I need to keep working to earn those minor ducats. This country is fucking pathetic.

*Somewhere on the East coast Hotrod, my old Vox pal/adversary, is subconsciously shouting, “You never had taste.”

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  1. theluckynun 11.Jan.22 at 12:13 pm

    I’m so sorry it got you! I wanted to thank you for the last few posts’ worth of book recommendations – haven’t read a clunker, yet based on your reviews – and say that I hope you start feeling better soon.

  2. theluckynun 11.Jan.22 at 12:14 pm

    ugh, misplaced commas will be the death of me

    1. Jodi Chromey 11.Jan.22 at 6:21 pm

      Me too. Damn commas. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the books! I just re-read Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt, and if you haven’t read that, add it to your list. It’s so good!


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