Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Prior to the 'rona, we had been talking with Matt and Helen for awhile about going to the newly opened Veronika restaurant. Photo credit: The Opinionator As you can see above, the place is gorgeous. Also, from January until March, you could not get a reservation. I don't mean you could not get a reservation for, like, Saturday. I mean you couldn't get a reservation for like, ever. The place was booked solid for all available times online. So, Matt and Helen and Tom and I cooled our heels and basically stopped checking Resy. At the beginning of March, some big news broke: Matt was going to Veronika, albeit not with us. A client of his firm somehow got a reservation because the client knew someone with an AmEx Black Card. So this client was going to take Matt and his business partner out to dinner on Thursday, March 12. Helen, Tom and I were bummed, but we were gracious and of course Matt should go. Without us. Anyway, Thursday, the morning of the 12th, Matt tex

When I first told Tom I was contemplating starting a Plague Diary, I asked him what he'd write about in his Plague Diary, if he were to start a Plague Diary. "Dear Plague Diary," began Tom after a dramatic pause. "Today I used four small scraps of toilet paper...." Ha ha ha, we both laughed about this. Tom rarely uses toilet paper. We have a Brondell, you see. Or as my niece and nephew call it, "The Japanese Toilet." Who knew it would save us from the apocalypse? Our apocalyptic Japanese Toilet remote control.

Currently unnecessary outside shoes. I began my online shopping expedition looking at this cute pair of outside shoes. But then I realized I'd never actually wear them for god knows how long. So I pivoted immediately because I'm super skilled at finding things I desperately need online once I set my mind to it. House shoes. Yes, of course. I've never spent this much time in the house, so in honor of the occasion, I felt like some house shoes might be in order. Luckily, I had been eyeing up a pair of blue suede Quoddy moccasins for six months. I told Tom that maybe when the box came with my new house shoes, I'd need to quarantine the box for 3 days until I opened it. How long do COVIDs last on suede? What if I put on my new house shoes and tracked virus particles all over the house? Tom said it would probably be ok as long as no one dragged their face across the floor. I don't know. I just started doing these Pilates classes they have on Amazon Prime. I

I had this vision of how I would maintain a completely COVID-free ecosystem. I have these old school knit gloves. I would pick up the Amazon box, take it inside, retrieve my items and then put the gloves in the washing machine after spraying them down with lysol. Easy. In theory. First, I had to get scissors. I open a drawer in the kitchen. Now there's COVID all over the drawer and all over the scissors. I rip off the box top and dump out the stuff inside. My bottle of vitamins bounces off a chair and rolls under the table. Somehow in the next thirty seconds, I touch the inside of my coat, my phone, the table, my earbuds and my keys. I put my phone in the UV-C sanitizer. Shit. How do you sanitize your sanitizer? We need a decontamination station by the front door is all. I saw a picture on Instagram someone posted of a shower curtain hung across a foyer: I scoffed just a little bit when I saw this earlier but now I'm on board. BTW- I mentioned this

Helen suspects the 'rona is a conspiracy by cats to keep their humans home 24/7. She may be on to something. She sent me a photo of her cat Rocky sprawled out on her leg like he knew for a fact she wasn't going anywhere soon.

We've been doing a lot of virtual happy hours. And by virtual, I mean the setting is online but the alcohol is real. Some of our friends are more well-stocked than others: Some friends are more well supplied than others During one of the happy hours, we attempted to get a band together. We had a bass guitar, a ukulele, a mandolin and five to seven marguerites. I'm going to say the endeavor was not entirely successful and not only because of the lag time and because the computer had a hard time picking up the bass. There's a learning curve with this whole virtual party thing.

I've been doing a lot of emailing lately. The emails always begin with "I hope you are well" or some other formerly trite cliche. It's now an actual valid question. It's the end of the email, the "sincerely" part that is giving me some trouble. For example, today, I deleted "Sincerely" and replaced it with " Meanwhile, let me go back to trying to figure out how to jam my keyboard into a UV-C sanitizing unit…" I felt this was timely and relevant, but slightly more TMI than most recipients appreciate. A few weeks ago, I sent out a bunch of emails closing with, "Wash your hands!" - but now that feels a little too preachy and obvious. Everybody has bloody knuckles from ferocious bouts of handwashing. Maybe a sentiment like, "Stay safe out there!" or "Social distance for fuck's sake!" is more timely at this point in the trajectory. Another consideration for a decent email close is format. I think I

We have a multi-prong plan: Send your husband to the store with a list. Because, obviously, if there's more than one of you, only one should brave the outside world full of door handles and elevator buttons and people licking things.  Buy this kind of soy milk, Tom! Not the Silk stuff with all the artificial crap that comes in a plastic bottle! Even in the apocalypse we can save the world from unnecessary plastic.  Luckily, all the hoarders at the Westside Market seem to have overlooked the old WestSoy. Ha ha, more for us, all you amateurs in the dairy free aisle! Buy the one that looks like this, Tom! Breaking out the trail mix my Pop gave me for Valentines Day: He buys the ingredients from an Amish lady. Cheap. Then I really got serious and decided to dehydrate carrots. Little carrots and big carrots. We will not get scurvy or glaucoma, is all I can say. Carrots on their way to immortality. Last night, I made almond rosemary crackers. They are

A couple weekends ago, we went to see the Invisible Man with Stacie and Andy. We went down to the big fancy theater in FiDi that you can get to if you walk through the Oculus from the Fulton Street station. Andy always leads the way, he knows the route like the back of his hand. This is an amazing option when it's freezing or pouring outside. You can go like 40 blocks indoors and stop along the way for snacks and a drink. Tom said the Invisible Man movie was predictable but I disagreed. I never go see those kinds of movies because they make my heart palpitate. Therefore, I had no idea what was going to happen next. Frankly, going in, I thought the whole movie was going to be about race relations in 50s America.  Anyway, when we got home after the wildly unpredictable show, I said we should strip down and break out the bed bug oven . Everybody knows bedbugs love theaters. Yes, we have a bed bug oven. I'm terrified of getting bedbugs and this oven is a preventative mea

Over breakfast, Tom munched on delicious bread homemade by Wanda. Wanda Bread, if you will.  Wanda Bread. I decided to work from home today because, corona virus. We really had no plans except to go to the store and gawk at the empty shelves where toilet paper used to be. We have enough toilet paper. Thank god I signed us up for the “ Who Gives a Crap ” subscription plan. In any event, Tom said that he had a dream that we had some plans but he had to cancel on me.  “What the hell else were you going to do that outranked a plan with me?!” I dropped my spoon. It clattered on the table. “Well,” said Tom. “I was having dinner with the Clintons. Hillary and Bill were in town." . . . . Fair enough.