Like a few billion people around the world, I am practicing a semi-enforced, self-isolation scheme called ‘social distancing’. Under normal circumstances, this scheme is my typical weekend, but when Sunday extends into Monday and Monday melts into all the other days, it starts to feel a little…rote.
Maybe, and this is a very loose maybe, you’ve started missing the stale air of the building you low-key dreaded entering for your full-time nightmare. Maybe you’ve chuckled at the memory of Dave rhapsodizing on productive emailing. Maybe you’ve started thinking that, when things return to normal, you’ll brave the mosquitos and other strange winged insectoids and go outside during your lunch breaks.
All these maybes are dangerous. Yes, this is a time of uncertainty and panic. Yes, you may feel useless, and yes, the processing power on your laptop combined with everyone and their uncle streaming cat videos makes working from home not just dubious but shitty. Yes, the commerce of work has supplanted our very idea of socializing, to the point where even celebrities are struggling to remain sane in their multi-million dollar terrace houses. Don’t worry, there’s no ‘Yes, but’ coming. No exegesis on the indomitable human will, no platitudinous remarks on the need for community in these dark times. Definitely zero anything regarding the…
