Create your own hygge

You're all convinced by now (I hope!) of the importance of social distancing, but what does that mean in practice? Most of the advice I see online is aimed at people who live with a family, are in a close romantic relationship, or have roommates. Advice for them is pretty simple: stay home, or go only to your partner's house, and try not try drive each other crazy. It's less obvious what to do if you're single, live alone, and don't have family nearby, which is my own situation. Are you supposed to be alone in your apartment for weeks, months, maybe more than a year until a vaccine is developed?

That's obviously untenable. Robin Wright, who also lives alone and doesn't normally mind it, wrote about this experience for The New Yorker this week. "I miss the ability to see, converse with, hug, or spend time with friends. Life seems shallower, more like survival than living." I suspect this feeling is even more acute for those of us in the hospitality industry; we're accustomed to our aptly named "family meal" with our coworkers and friendly interactions with hundreds of people a week. It's jarring to be thrust into isolation. I miss, too, the energy of coffee shops, where I typically do most of my writing instead of alone at my desk. As Wright notes in her piece, the effects of loneliness, which can include depression and PTSD, can be as real as damage caused by a virus. I worry, too, that the disruption to people's productive lives without anything purposeful to replace their work will be a trap for falling into substance abuse.

There's a story in David Quammen's Spillover about an American researcher who is accidentally exposed to Ebola and forced to spend time alone in a military isolation chamber called "The Slammer." For two weeks, she endured quarantine while wondering if she was coming down with of the world's most virulent diseases. Even in those conditions, she stayed sane by having friends visit who could smuggle in snacks and beer. She wasn't infected, as it turned out, but if even those conditions allow some flexibility for finding moments of shared comfort, I think coronavirus does, too.

If you're not going to completely quarantine, be smart about it. This obviously means no parties. Read this report about a birthday party in Connecticut that turned into a superspreading event, infecting half the guests and transporting the virus across an ocean. Seriously, no parties! This also doesn't mean that small gatherings are fine. If you hang out with a couple people one day, then a couple different people the day after that, and so on, you're still having a party, you're just spreading it out over time. You've still created a situation in which the virus might branch off in many directions, starting new chains of infection.

What to do, then, is up to you to figure out. The only absolute answer is isolation, and most of us will have to break from that at some point, if only for groceries or take-out. You'll have to factor in your own vulnerabilities and those of people close to you when deciding what to do. Maybe virtual happy hours will help; I usually hate video calls, but I'm trying them. I'm replacing team soccer with solo bike rides. I'm cooking new things, reading more, and exploring new music. I also have a very few friends, most of whom also live alone and work from home, that I'm getting together with during this period to cook and share meals. There's no guarantee that one of us won't catch the virus, but if it does happen the odds are better that we won't spread it outside our circle and do further damage. This isn't a perfect solution, but it seems workable to me for now and tolerable for a relatively long period of time. Take this less as advice than as me being transparent about how I'm approaching the situation, given that widespread testing (the best way out of strict social distancing) still seems a distant goal in the US.

Informally, I think of this as "creating your own hygge." I hesitate to use the word here, given the seriousness of the epidemic and how overused and trendy hygge has become in English in recent years. (There's even a Hygge apartment building in Portland now.) But this Danish term that connotes coziness and contentment seems like the right thing to seek for this indeterminate stretch. Big things are off-limits for the time being, so take comfort in the small pleasures and an even smaller social circle.

A few other recommended readings on COVID-19: Katherine Miller on the uniqueness of our personal isolations and the destination that makes them worthwhile. An unusual interview with Anthony Fauci. How South Korea is fighting the epidemic and what we can learn from their experience. How the 1918 flu epidemic underscores the need for social distancing. The only way out is tests, tests, tests. And a piece that only Kerry Howley could write.

Stimulus

While we're on the topic of things Denmark gets right, their approach to mitigating the economic damage is much more direct (and even more libertarian?) than whatever it is Congress is doing right now. Their government recognizes that people's freedom to work is being infringed and that they deserve compensation for this. Derek Thomspon interviewed Flemming Larsen, a professor at Aalborg University, for the details.

Some links on how the hospitality business is adapting: Nick Cho of Wrecking Ball Coffee on rethinking his entire service model for the current reality. Businesses that previously sold only to restaurants are turning by necessity to the general public. Naomi Pomeroy on shutting down and making the case for government assistance.

What I've been working on

I don't have any new writing for you, but I have made the introduction to my recent book available for free. If you've been curious about it, this will give you an idea of what motivated me to write an entire book about tobacco and nicotine. If you enjoy it, I hope you'll purchase a copy to read the rest. I'm also quoted a few times in this article by Jeremy Lott about prohibition, cocktail culture, and consolidation in the beer industry.

Social distancing

To listen: Since I'm nostalgic for coffee shops, I put together a Spotify playlist of the albums we listened over and over during my first year as a barista in Arlington, Virginia, a period that did more than any other to influence my taste in music. Belle and Sebastian, Beth Orton, Lucinda Williams, The Sundays, and more. Click through to be transported to an indie coffee shop circa 2004.

To drink: If the federal government does end up writing you a check to deal with this crisis, that will likely be thanks in part to the advocacy of Mitt Romney, so today's drink is the Pierre Delecto. (Five months ago, which is about five years ago in Twitter time, "Pierre Delecto" was revealed as the name of Mitt's secret account.) I'd already been working on a drink with a combination of French ingredients, so when Pierre was exposed, I knew what its name had to be. The recipe calls for a bitter orange aperitif called Bigallet China-China, but if you don't have that, you could try Ramazzotti (which is what we used at the Multnomah Whiskey Library) or perhaps Amaro CioCiaro. Feel free to make substitutions; quarantine is no time to be fussy about ingredients.

1 1/2 oz armangac or cognac
3/4 oz Bigallet China-China
1/4 oz St. Germain
1 barspoon Sfumato amaro
3 dashes orange bitters

Stir, serve up, and garnish with a flamed orange peel.