Like most of you, I have been sheltering in place for what feels like ever. My house arrest began in mid-March, in Spain, when the prime minister declared a state of emergency. A week later I was home, and began a 14-day self-quarantine, from which I recently emerged into a state on orders to stay home as much as possible.
It feels oddly familiar, because in some ways I have been preparing to shelter in place for a lot longer. Since about Y2K, when it seemed totally reasonable to expect that computers would lose track of which millennium we were in, and trigger societal collapse. Activities like gardening, canning, and raising chickens felt like a reasonable response to the coming chaos.