I probably hadn’t gone 47 straight days of eating exclusively at home since I was in high school 40 years ago. 

Bam! Dining out is prohibited.

When my husband brought home takeout barbecue last week — thank goodness restaurants can open for takeout — it was such a treat that I felt I should dress up for date night. I was already wearing my “better” sweatpants, so I didn’t bother. The next day, we were still crowing about our special meal: “Wasn’t that so much fun?” If you’d told me three months ago that I’d stop going to restaurants, I would have reacted with astonishment and, probably, petulance.