Freedom from FOMO

I can’t help but notice, dear reader, that you’re having a hard time filling your SocialTwitterInstaBook feed with fabulousness. But you’re in good company. It’s hard to do these days. And as a long time sufferer of FOMO (the Fear of Missing Out), I want to personally thank you. It means I’m not falling behind.

It turns out, I mostly don’t mind staying home and being boring, so long as you’re forced to do more or less the same thing. You can’t fly to Mallorca without me. You can’t meet Lin Manuel Miranda at that amazing charity event you run. You can’t even sit near the Lieutenant Governor at Chez Okay, the pretty good French restaurant at the corner of Fourth and Lame. That would’ve made a sweet Instagram selfie, n’est-ce pas?

Not this year, my friend…

In the old days, if you did any of those things, or rather, if I had the misfortune to learn about you doing any of those things, then I would feel bad. I would feel bad, because you would be AHEAD and I would be BEHIND. I don’t like to be so blunt about it, but there it is. My lizard brain, despite all my protests to the contrary, cares about these things. Hey, look, I didn’t invent the brain stem. I just have to wear one every day.

You used to be Instagramming glorious sunset photos from Greece. But where are you now, huh? Stuck at home. Watching Netflix and eating way too many powdered donuts, just like me. What’s that? You’re watching operas, learning Italian, and cooking gourmet meals? Dammit! Don’t they have some kind of quarantine for that too?