I’ve been toggling among all three of these reactions. When I’m not hitting the Oh I’m sorry I forgot I only exist when you need something shirt and by the same token and refresh button on a live map of the virus’s spread, I’m avoiding crowds and quietly edging away from anyone who even clears his throat. And while I haven’t yet begun to dread-shop for bottled water and dried beans, my ever-present germophobia has ratcheted up to stratospheric levels. Every surface seems as if it’s teeming with harmful organisms as I douse my gym equipment with alcohol. On a recent (half-empty) flight, I vigorously wiped down my airline seat and tray like Naomi Campbell (although I stopped short at donning disposable sterile gloves, as she does).
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