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There is no more scrolling enviously through people’s vacation pictures on Instagram. Instead I ogle snapshots of amazing shelter-in-place baking projects.

I can’t feel lame anymore about not going to dance parties, and yet I feel bad for skipping virtual ones. There are no sweaty selfies from 5 a.m. gym sessions, but The New York Times started a home workout challenge for employees. We can win points. I have no clue what the points are for.

FOMO, the fear of missing out, has survived the coronavirus. No one is going anywhere cool, and I still feel bad.

How did pandemic FOMO become a thing? We have taken troubling aspects of our pre-coronavirus world — the need to “crush it” at work and life and show only idyllic versions of ourselves online — and grafted them onto our new reality.