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Living in quarantine with your best friend can still be hard.
When Your Spouse Hits the Wall
For the first time in seventeen years, she’s up before me. 7:30am! I’ve usually been up for hours by then. But, for the first time in seventeen years, I slept in. When I heard her in the kitchen, I got up, made the bed, and greeted her with happy surprise. “What have you done with my wife?”
Her response was made with effort. I could tell something was off. Usually I assume I’ve done something wrong, but this time I felt sort of teflon-y and didn’t take it personally. She muttered something about, “I was just hoping to have some time in the kitchen by myself.”
This is one of the hardest things about being quarantined, especially with someone who’s immuno-compromised (she has rheumatoid arthritis). How can we carve out spaces of solitude?
I went outside and sat on the stoop while our puppy surveyed the back yard. I enjoyed the sun. I was quiet. I waited.
“Ok. All clear!” Her voice was back, sort of. A cheerful lilt that I’m used to. I came in and made my breakfast. Sat down across from her New York Times crossword puzzle. No talking. From the outside it looked fine.
