Like everyone else, I’ve been impacted by Covid, although I haven’t had it yet (that I know of). And like every other writer, I’ve had a fair amount to say about Covid.
At one point I was wondering why characters in a novel I was working on weren’t socially distancing or masking. I waffled on whether to include a crowded cocktail party scene—even though the novel takes place before the pandemic and not one character is concerned about viruses. (It Gets Inside You).
Then I started having Covid dreams, waking up distressed and disoriented. I even wrote some six-word Covid stories.
There’s no question Covid is everywhere and has touched everyone and everything—and now it’s a clause in my homeowner’s insurance policy.
“. . . if a communicable disease damages or contaminates your property, we will not pay to repair the damages nor for the decontamination of your property.”
Who knew my property could catch a communicable disease? Also, my liability insurance won’t cover me should someone sue me for spreading a communicable disease.
The insurance company used the language “communicable disease” instead of Covid-19 to include whatever the next virus is that comes after us. I can picture the meeting at the insurance company (well, meeting over Zoom) where they debated how to phrase these clauses, drafted the language, circulated the text for approval, and finalized it. Just another day at the office while the world burns.
“What did you do at work today, honey?”
“Added communicable disease exclusions to our policies.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Can I make you a drink?”
“Make mine a double.”
