Five months into self-isolating alone in a one bedroom apartment, I’ve accepted that my expectations of how all this was going to go were unrealistic. I don’t mean that in reference to the physical reality of the COVID-19 pandemic or even the whiplash unpredictability of the time loop that is 2020 — I mean my expectations for me, personally. I have not baked a single loaf of bread, planted no herbs, and completed exactly zero virtual yoga classes.
The reality of my isolation is that trying new things is hard and I’m tired. The paradox of being exhausted from a surfeit of nothing is not lost on me, but I’ll be damned before I spend my energy on something I’m not even sure I’ll like. As someone who works full time reviewing telev… Read More