I'm lucky enough to have a flexible job that means I'm accustomed to working from home. Not every day, but often enough for this odd season to not feel all that strange.
Mind you, I don't usually have so many other people here with me, but I'm trying to confine them to quarters. Padlocks may have to come into it, but these are strange times and needs must.
And I'm lucky enough to have a house with a garden so we can get outside and do some normal things - feed the chooks, mow the lawn, hang out the washing, coax some seedlings out of the ground.
Staying home will be difficult for us all, but for some, home is a long way from the refuge it should be.
I'm acutely aware that there are presently a lot of people out there with neither a job (flexible or otherwise), nor a home that will accommodate all that will be expected of it in the coming weeks.
I want you to know that we see you (even if it's from a distance).
We see you, the homeless and the jobless with nowhere to go, and nowhere to hide from what is to come.
We see you, families with kids, no computer and a list of baffling links from the school.
We see you, the women who are now trapped in the house with an abusive partner, who may be more stressed and volatile than ever before.
We see you, the couple whose relationship was already at breaking point and is now set to crack apart.
We see you, the poor and the refugees, who have no choice about whether they should wash their hands because they have no soap.
We can't assume that everyone has the same advantages going into this - a stable family life, money for toilet paper or anything else, a reliable broadband connection.
We all have to keep our eyes open to see who needs help and be willing to sacrifice some of what we have (whether it's pasta or time or a virtual shoulder to cry on).
We're going to need each other like never before.