Hi. I feel pretty useless right now. What have I got to offer during this crisis? Words, which is all that I ever offer! But hey, you opened the email, so words must have some appeal. Sorry they aren't cheerier ones.
Maybe you're stress-bored. Isn't that a strange feeling, buzzing with anxiety and yet under-stimulated? There is no Content™ in the world that could satisfy your brain, absent certainty about the coming days, weeks, months. Your survival drive is screaming for the situation to be resolved, because that internal response was adaptive in the evolutionary environment or some shit.
Coquettish Corona-chan wants to climb into your lap. Watch out, the little minx is bad news! She'll run around on you worse than Fortuna.
You scroll through headlines, infographics, all manner of screenshot. You read excoriations of the irresponsible and exaltations of the long-suffering.
What's going to happen, how will things unfold? Already people are swearing that they know, but they don't. Regardless of whether their particular predictions turn out to be correct in the end. Regardless of whether they're peddling rainbows or gloom. (Granted, the latter does seem like a smarter buy.) More goes awry in the plans of mice and men than is dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio.
The thing about the future is that it doesn't exist yet. Probability < 1 remains merely probability! In fact, its indeterminate nature is what makes the future so intractably inscrutable. Tomorrow is another day, which means a day in addition to the ones that have happened so far.
Another day? We have to do another one? Yes — I'm sorry, but yes. Time is both inexorable and indiscriminate. Keep on keepin' on. It's not like you've got another choice.
