Even under normal circumstances, marriage is a kind of quarantine: you’re supposed to live together, eat the same dinners, and sleep in the same bed. One of the first things I read about China’s coronavirus outbreak were the divorces: the many couples who supposedly emerged from quarantine no longer able to tolerate each other. After just a week of lockdown en famille, awe for my husband’s analytical powers gave way to frustration over his almost total lack of practical skills. He could foresee a pandemic, but he can’t operate a can-opener or unblock a sink.
Pandemic Marriage, Ménage, & Me
