“People are saying, ‘whatever,'” he said.

Yes. I am tired of the pandemic myself. It is difficult to imagine anyone, anywhere in the world, who is not tired of the pandemic. From the sound of it, the president wants us all to ignore the pandemic, as if we could opt out of it at any time.

The trouble is, it’s not that simple, not like dropping a social science 101 class or pulling the covers up over our heads because we don’t feel like getting out of bed. We can’t opt out of the pandemic. The universe will not allow it. What is to is must is, as my friend Cox Watkins, an Antiguan chef, once told me.

What is right now is the global COVID pandemic.

Working with the public five days a week, I notice people’s masks. As of Oct. 7, New York State Health Law Section 66-3.2, “Face-Coverings,” makes masking mandatory during this time of global pandemic.

According to the law, “Face-coverings shall include, but are not limited to, cloth masks (e.g. homemade sewn, quick cut, bandana), surgical masks, N-95 respirators, and face shields.”

Within that mandate there is plenty of room for individual expression, and I find that people with interesting masks don’t mind talking about them.

A blond-haired woman looked glamorous in a pink rhinestone mask. She is asthmatic, she said. Her asthma is triggered by physical exertion. Asthma is an underlying condition that would make contracting COVID particularly dangerous for her, and while she can’t opt out of either the pandemic or exercise-induced asthma, she can at least have some fun with her mask.

“Go on Etsy and look for it,” she advised. “Good luck.”

Several parents have come in carrying small babies lately. I worry that the babies may be frightened of strangers with covered faces, but no. As two different mothers explained on separate occasions, these little babies were born during the time of COVID, so “that’s all they know.” And guess what? When I smile into the babies’ faces, they smile back. They can read eyes! Human beings are amazing.

An art gallery owner from Buffalo came in wearing a mask that was dramatic in both its design and its color. When I asked about it, he suggested I Google “Black Monarchy.” On that site I discovered masks sewn from vividly colorful African ankara batik cotton. Beautiful.

I’ve seen American flag masks and masks that feature the work VOTE in capital letters.

“Who’s that?” I asked one man, as I strained to identify the face on his mask from 6 feet away.

“It’s Dr. Fauci,” he said. “I believe in science.”

A young woman wearing a mask printed with images of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg told me, “I bought this a long time before she died. I’ve always admired her.”

People have grown as weary of politics as they are of the pandemic.

“I am so sick of 2020,” they say. “What an off year.” No one wants to conjecture that 2021 might be just as bad, or worse.

I have to stay off Facebook, except to gaze at photographs of my grandchildren. If I linger online too long, I am bound to start carrying on and annoying friends with my “ranting,” as one person happened to characterize the way I was sharing my political opinions.

I don’t think of myself as a ranter, knowing in my heart, as I do, that I am right. Still, there may be a grain of truth in it. My sister told me years ago: “Whenever you get in a political argument, you always have to drag Hitler into it.” Remembering her words, I try to avoid mentioning Hitler. Now I usually drag in Jesus instead.

I think of ranters as controlling types, which I am not. Far from it. A controlling person could never put up with a robot vacuum cleaner like mine. It just flits around at its whim, circling a piece of cat kibble and then zooming off to clean one corner of the living room for the zillionth time. Look, now it’s getting stuck under the sofa again. All right, all right, I’m coming, stop your beeping. Notice how it’s just going around that piece of kibble again. I shouldn’t watch it.

Have a good week.