“The great thickening of friendship and community that came in the days before the virus means that these losses are thicker too. Punch in the throat, punch in the throat, punch in the throat. The frantic schedule of online concerts and quarantinis starts to recede because the days are filled with the horror of what’s been lost and what might be lost and also with taking your temperature” Dahlia Lithwick (my friend, how cool is that?) on How to Spend the Time. “Suddenly, you are thinking about your time in a different way. Filling the days is not the chief concern. Time is not an empty thing to load up, so much as a precious thing to be doled out … We are dallying in the shallows as the grocery store employees and nurses and teachers and janitors and doctors and delivery people (hello Fed Ex guy, thank you) and the food preparers and elder care workers and first responders harness themselves, like oxen, to this thing that is all out of our control.”

+ “So much is being lost with each passing day: money, freedom, time and, most important, lives. The world we inherit from our former selves — in a few months, or as many as 18 months — will feel different. It will be different, diminished by the absence of lost friends and places.” Wright Thompson: A letter from the coronavirus quarantine: missing Serie A, pasta and friendship. “There are many isolated days left. Many scary days. At least two of my friends have it, one in New York and one in L.A. One friend is worried his daughter has it. Another friend’s dad needs to start chemo, but the oncologists are worried about getting him safely into a hospital … I think I’m going to try to channel my inner Gianni — to be optimistic, to be brave and to find the beauty.”

+ When this is over, we should have a ticker tape parade for health workers, first responders, and others standing tall in harm’s way. In the meantime, in the words of Jeb Bush, “Please clap.” That’s what they’re doing in NYC. (OK, a few New Yorkers have yet to fully embrace the spirit.) And, on smy side of the country, to let health workers know we’re thinking of them, we howl at the moon. (This is a significant threat to my beagles’ personal brand. I just hope none of my neighbors start going to the bathroom in the street.)