And how long ago that feels already. It's turned into a Before -- before the lockdowns and stay at home orders and travel bans and business closings. Before. Though we were already being careful because of the virus -- I wiped down the table and utensils with a Clorox wipe when I sat down -- we still thought we were going to California. We still thought we could go about our lives, maybe short some hand sanitizer and toilet paper, but otherwise more or less doing what we usually do.
I read The New Yorker before I fell asleep last night and had to put it aside because all of the ads and articles -- for shows and movies and exhibits and restaurants -- broke my heart a little. Everything is cancelled or closed, of course, and many of them will never reopen now. It's maybe a small grief in a world where so many people are dying every day and health care workers don't have the protective equipment they need and we're going to run out of beds and ventilators, but I couldn't help thinking about all the hope and hard work behind each one of those ads and it hurt.