Now it’s time for the next phase, where, after vaccination, things still aren’t like they were, and you wonder if they ever will be. Sitting at someone’s kitchen counter and hearing about their awful neighbor. Getting stuck in some town for a family obligation or work trip, then discovering the secret good place to eat there. I’m not talking parties, I’m talking driving a friend to the airport. The feeling that any day could involve a new space, a new acquaintance, a new part of town that’s actually open, an event that isn’t a video call or a delivery. What was stripped out of 2020 was possibility, spontaneity, choice (beyond takeout). I’m an aging nerd, so last year didn’t strip me of wild parties, crowded events, or cool bars. I had housing, a loving partner, three pets, no kids. I didn’t have it as bad as some, or even most. A vaccine doesn’t change everything, but it eases the deadly concerns. That’s about a year and a quarter gone to isolation. If all goes well, I should be vaccinated this week, after finding the right website and driving a long way out of town. The masks work, and I wear them, but I resent their space in my daily thoughts. I spent most of last year trying not to die or kill people. If you’re reading this many years from now, it might be hard to understand how serious I am. It’s still like that, except the worst possible outcome isn’t embarassment, it’s death. Before the pandemic, I spent a lot of time wondering if I was in standing in the wrong place, in the wrong line, imposing on people.
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