It’s Sunday. Or is it Monday? Week Two of the quarantine. Or Week Three? With no schedule, nothing to plan, discipline is lost.
Because of my nature, I check supplies often. We’re down to brown rice and dry beans. We went through the Cheetos the first week. I found my wife on the couch, watching a show on her iPad. She wore earbuds.
“Our stackpile is getting low,” I said.
“What?”
I spoke louder. “Our stackpile. It’s getting low.”
She took the earbuds out and put her iPad down. “For the last time, you freakin’ idiot. It’s STOCKpile!”
I blinked. Evidently, I was getting on someone’s nerves.
This is the danger, made clear by President Trump’s not-so-carefully veiled warnings. A prolonged shutdown is not in the nation’s best interest. If we all don’t get back to our normal routines, we’re going to kill each other.
After retreating to the garage, and some heartfelt reflection, I decided to make a list of advice to all spouses. You can thank me later.
1. If you store food, eat the bad stuff first. Or keep your own stash.
2. Find a hobby that does not include correcting your wife’s political ideas. Now is not the time.
3. Do not, even as a joke, suggest you take the place of her hairdresser.
4. Change your shirt. Every day.
5. Do not give the dog a treat every time you go downstairs. They won’t come, speak, or fetch. But in five seconds they learn where you store the biscuits.
6. Learn to fix stuff. Then do it. Now.
7. Do not mention what a great investment the stock market would be, if only you had the money.
8. Employ social distancing. Even though you sleep together.
9. Do not make your hobbies her hobbies. For instance, Medieval English poetry. Example:
“Here, read this.”
“I don’t want to.”
“No. It’s really funny.”
“GET AWAY FROM ME.”
10. Find somewhere to go. It’s not illegal to get in the car and drive to the park. Yesterday, I went to the overlook on Lake Pepin. Ten other cars were parked there. In each sat a single man or woman. They weren’t enjoying the scenery. They were saving their marriage.
We’ll all get through this. And hopefully with the same person we started with. On a purely technical level, there are many reasons. But one, for me, is foremost. I don’t want to start a new stackpile.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com