I know just how you feel, my friend. There were times during the last 281 days when I thought I'd maybe get out to dine, to browse casually in stores, to travel, to go to parties. Oh, I know some of you are doing it. I read about it on Facebook. I see the numbers climb for infections. People die. (Well, they escape to somewhere, I suppose.)
I now see that to stay safe I will need to continue to limit my activities. I won't be getting a vaccine soon. Not essential. Not in care. Not old enough. (Although I am well past 65.)
I see the bars near my condo when we are driving. They draw crowds. They are "operating as restaurants." Our governor won't have another shutdown. Period.
I no longer hope. I put things off. So tomorrow I will have something to do. My husband has deadlines. (He is writing a lot of the copy for the neighborhood newspaper he has contributed to for years.) I have deadlines, too. I have to do certain financial things in a timely fashion. But I put things off. Cleaning. sorting, etc. Because there is always tomorrow. And more and more tomorrows.