The first few weeks of quarantine were a challenge; working remotely, I was part of the team that moved all of the Spring semester courses online. Looking at my timecard for the beginning of the quarantine, I see we worked about 16 days in a row, without a break. Endless uploads, creating tutorials, assisting frustrated faculty with Zoom problems...I began dreaming in Zoom's gallery view format.

Attached is a photo of my work-from-home set up. My kitchen became my new office. My apartment has no air conditioning, so as the summer heat intensifies, I've had to start putting ice packs under my laptop to prevent it from overheating. I pace around in front of the stove and have slow-motion existential crises. I listen to my neighbor's children playing basketball loudly behind the building. I wonder how to be useful. I donate to local mutual aid organizations. And now, in the midst of the BLM protests, I donate to groups working for structural change and racial justice. I feel lucky to still have work, but simultaneously, I'm exhausted. My hair has gotten noticeably grayer around the temples.

The good thing about having all these routines and material conveniences stripped away by the quarantine is that, once things get back to some sort of normal, it affords the opportunity to re-introduce only the things you feel are necessary. Leave the rest behind. Rip it up and start again, as the song says.