For more than four years, I was a “Novid” — someone who hadn’t had Covid. Two weeks ago, the little red line finally appeared on my test strip. Feeling not terrible but not great, I spent the short periods of time between naps examining the language of this disease. “I got Covid,” people say, but it seems more accurate to say “Covid got me.” Ditto for “catching”: I wasn’t standing around with a mitt, like a Yankee outfielder. The virus caught me.

As I recovered, I roamed around the Oxford English Dictionary, a word-nerd’s playground. The OED defines “contagious” as “”where the notion of mutual contact is present.” Notion? I didn’t get an idea. I got a sweaty, exhausting experience. Another definition of “contagious” is “charged with the germs of an infectious disease” — as if I’d run up a hefty credit-card bill (crowded subways, theater performances, restaurants) and now had to pay. Fair enough.

This wouldn’t be a proper Grammarian-in-the-City post without a couple of signs. Here’s one from the pre-vaccine era:

Why practicing? It’s not like playing the piano!

Here’s another, same time period:

Nice to know that you can stay on the sidewalk, but your FACE COVERING IS REQUIRED TO ENTER THE BUILDING. Not sure how FACE COVERING will get there, given the absence of legs, but hey, it’s REQUIRED.

Thankfully, that era is over, though Covid is not. We’ve learned to live with it — actually, to live through it, if we’re lucky. I am, and I’m grateful. I wish you good health!