one day at a time
One of the weirdest parts of adjusting to our New Normal, for me at least, is that we can’t plan anything. I am a planner; you might call me an extreme advance planner. I think about my life in months and in the calendar year. This year is an election year, and so I already had all the major election dates on my calendar through November, knowing I’d work coverage of those and likely travel to DC for many of them. I had already slotted in weddings and trips with friends and with my husband around those. I thought I knew what my entire 2020 looked like.
Now, as we know, we have no idea if any of the plans we made for 2020 will happen. It’s become increasingly clear that our new social distancing reality may be here a whole lot longer than we expected. But we have no idea when it will end, and thus no ability to plan. Will that friend’s wedding happen? Will we be able to go to the beach this summer? Will I be able to take that trip this year, or should I save it for 2021? I have no idea. There are no answers to any of these questions, and no one knows what the future holds.
Considering how much I love planning ahead, I thought this inability to plan and to know anything, this total loss of control over my life, would have sent my anxiety through the roof. But weirdly enough, it hasn’t. Instead, I think only about one day at a time now; something I honestly wouldn’t have thought I was capable of a month ago when quarantine began. Now I just think about getting through the day, getting through the week, one foot in front of the other. I actively try not to think about the future because the future is terrifying. So I just think about today. I think about getting through my work-from-home day and treating myself to a glass of wine in the evening. I think about what I’ll bake during the coming weekend. I think about what book I’ll read next and what TV show I’ll watch next. I think about daily routines: making coffee every morning, doing a barre video before work, shutting my laptop and having a glass of wine at 5pm. I don’t think any further than that. And actually, in its own way, it’s kind of soothing: I think more about the present moment than about the future. It’s a coping mechanism, but it’s also, in its own weird way, a form of mindfulness: just living in the now instead of living in the future. And for now at least, I think that’s enough.
What I’m cooking and baking
The New York Times’ famous no-knead bread. Roasted sweet potatoes with chickpeas and yogurt. Spicy sesame noodles with ground chicken and peanuts.
What I’m reading
I think we’re alone now. Welcome, New York Times. A terrific essay from my friend Glynnis about living alone during a pandemic.
Trapped at home with people you met on Craigslist, The Atlantic. And this one’s for everyone who lives with roommates right now.
Fran Lebowitz is never leaving New York, The New Yorker. This interview with Fran Lebowitz was everything I needed right now.
New York City in the coronavirus pandemic, The New Yorker. “We will remember the sound of seven o’clock.”
The digital burnout was coming. The pandemic is expediting it, Vanity Fair.
94 fun things you can do at home, anytime, and usually for free, Apartment Therapy. Honestly I loved this list — a great resource and source of ideas for projects to do at home.
‘I just need the comfort’: processed foods make a pandemic comeback, New York Times. As someone who is suddenly buying a lot of Cinnamon Toast Crunch…. I can relate.
“When can we really rest?”, California Sunday. This was by the far the best thing I read this week that was totally, completely unrelated to the coronavirus. It’s a fascinating, harrowing featuring following migrants traveling the Darien Gap - one of the most dangerous trails in the world - in order to come to America.
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