Never in my life did I envision a day when I’d conference with my coworkers via video while looking professional from the waist up and homeless from the waist down, decide in March that the only Christmas gift worth discovering under the tree is toilet paper, or find myself on a quest for face masks and matching gloves. Which also would make nice gifts, now that I think of it.

Never in my life did I think I’d be consumed with worry that the people I love will get sick, be sick with longing to see them (and be permitted to hug them), and obsessed with finding a way to make the six-hour drive from Virginia to New Jersey without having to stop to use a public restroom. I guess I could rent an RV but that’s a pretty penny and since the unemployment commission still hasn’t figured out how to get me the many pennies it owes me, it’s not an option. I could go the adult diaper route but the thought of being stopped for whatever and possibly being told to step out of the car while looking like Baby Huey would put me in a psych ward. No doubt next to the cop who stopped me. I’ve even considered making the entire trip without consuming any kind of liquid but worry I’d arrive dehydrated, delirious, and forced to make a detour to the emergency room. Which of course is better than the psych ward but not by much.

Never in my life did I think I’d be told to stay home, then told it’s ok to go out – but only if I stay six-feet away from anyone I encounter and only if I wear the aforementioned face mask (and matching gloves if I can find them) – and realize I don’t like being told what to do by people who clearly don’t know what to do.

And never in my life did I think that if a situation such as we’re in occurred and the doctors and scientists and researchers and politicians didn’t have a handle on it that my reaction would be to pray for them.

But I’m older now.

I’ve lived through a lot.

And I know that the people we count on to steer the ship through the storm are just that – people. And so I pray for them.

Never in my life did I think I’d be so mature and so immature at the same time. Because you know that while I’m praying, I’m still wondering how best to get to New Jersey. And at this moment, I’m leaning heavily toward the Baby Huey route. But only if I pair it with a Prozac.