Oh, how we sneered at the weekend day-trippers, thronging the verdant highways and byways of rural Ireland with their SUVs, all venturing out for a leisurely Sunday afternoon stroll, smack bang in the middle of a pandemic.
What part of staying at home did they not understand, we fumed? We even invented a new phrase for them - what a bunch of covidiots, we said.
It wasn't long before park rangers appeared on the news and made sensible pleas for everyone to observe social distancing even when enjoying the great outdoors. But the vitriol didn't stop.
Those idiots will be the ones responsible for keeping us all indoors until Christmas, we raged. They'll be the ones responsible for killing your granny.
But hang on. Do we really think that those Sunday drivers set out with the express intention of creating an Electric Picnic-style Coronavirus Cluster?
Isn't it far more likely that those cars were filled with families from built-up areas around our biggest cities, who were doing what they'd expressly been told was OK by Simon Harris and Tony Holohan - taking some daily exercise?
Most of them surely believed that they were doing the right thing by visiting out-of-the-way spots in Wicklow or Cork or Clare, instead of clogging up their own urban footpaths, where staying two metres apart frequently involves stepping out into the path of an oncoming bus.
Were they really to know that every single city dweller had had the same idea, at exactly the same time? Not unless they possessed Mystic Meg levels of clairvoyance.
But fear has made it all too tempting to label other people irresponsible idiots. Because we are all, hand on heart, terrified. And we want someone to blame.
But how can you keep up when the rules of behaviour are changing so quickly? Last week, for instance, I thought nothing of bringing my two small children into the supermarket when I ventured in to buy essential groceries.
This week, I wouldn't dream of it, as it's become clear that the fewer people in the shops, the better. That shift in public awareness is reflected by the fact that stores are beginning now to ban children. What was unremarkable 10 days ago is now effectively verboten.
Three weeks ago, I wrote a column in this newspaper about stockpiling some tinned food, flour and rice. At the time, it seemed like a sensible thing to do, and also the lesser of two evils: if our family fell ill and had to totally self-isolate, then we'd have enough baked beans and rice to see us through. I was also trying, for once in my life, to channel my inner girl scout - weren't they always banging on about being prepared? Wouldn't it be a sensible idea to be ready, if a crisis was looming?
But a week later stockpilers stripped shelves bare in supermarkets around the country and I had to stop and ask if what I'd done was really so sensible after all.
Because if everyone goes into girl scout mode at exactly the same time, the result is empty shelves. Seeing the despair of older shoppers unable to buy a loaf of bread certainly gave me pause.
I can see now how panic begets panic. And you don't want to be part of that chain. But at the same time, it is hard to argue with the fact that it's a good idea to be somewhat prepared when you have people depending on you.
The fact that my cupboards were already stocked meant I was nowhere near the shops when people were wrestling one another for the last toilet roll.
And it's also worth remembering that the woman in front of you in the line in Tesco, who has one too many loaves of bread in her trolley, is very possibly shopping not just for her own family, but elderly parents and neighbours too.
The shelf-strippers might also be the good Samaritans, even if it doesn't look that way.
Nevertheless, the list of people accused of covidiocy is growing by the second.
Passengers on the Tube in London have been big offenders this week, though I'm guessing the majority of them would rather have been anywhere else than packed like sardines into a train carriage in a city where coronavirus is rife. Even the daily walk is riven with allegations of covidiocy: dog-owners hiss when small children cross their path (vectors!). Parents frown when joggers rush past them (sweat!). Older folks tut at groups of youngsters (super-spreaders!).
Everyone's cross with someone else. I had to suppress a wave of rage when I found out a man with a suspected case of coronavirus in his family - which was later confirmed - had a lengthy face-to-face conversation about the situation with a vulnerable friend. What did he think he was doing? He must have known he was putting my friend at risk. But of course hindsight is 20/20; and the likelihood is that particular gentleman never really believed the plague was already in his household. It might have been naivety. At the very worst, it was thoughtlessness. It's unfortunate, but it's forgivable.
The truth is that we are only learning how to behave in a plague, and how to navigate this ever-shifting landscape of fear and uncertainty. Being a good citizen today is not the same as it was yesterday, and it will change again, just as quickly, tomorrow. Difficult though it may be, now is the time to cut one another a little slack.
Because we are all going to need it in the end.