I'm not normally a crier even in the worst of circumstances, so, Bradshaw-style, I couldn't help but wonder: What, exactly, was making me so weepy? The tears running down my face weren't entirely surprising to me, given that I'd also recently cried at an episode of Little Fires Everywhere and at the sound of my mom's voice over the phone. In this strange moment of self-isolation, though, looking at the pointy shards of glass spilled across the kitchen floor was enough to make me cry. If it were a treasured mug, I'd maybe be momentarily bummed, but I'd almost immediately get over it. In normal circumstances, this would be a non-event: I would sweep up the pieces and move on with my day.
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