of the Times

Hell's Kitchen on a Saturday, endless reminders of alienation but at last a spot at the bar and a drink. The play is long, and monologous, but the actor well-known so the audience laughs along in his nudges. We leave unimpressed. The subway home is an exercise in humanity: who flinches at a cough, who demands the seat to not need the pole, who tries to hold their breath. In a month none of this may matter. The actor yells, I did nothing to deserve this, and that turns out to be his point.

I did nothing.

You get a short reprieve to collect yourself, now, a few moments to relish the nothing. But your to do list is long, and you know how it begins.

Wash your hands. It's time to step up.