Day 31. Quarantined with my wife of 42 years. You'd think our nerves would be frayed by this point. After all, with consummate timing, I retired on the same day stay-at-home social distancing recommendations were announced and the stock market began to crash. She hasn't seen this much of me in years. And yet, our relationship has never been better. It's horrifying to think of those imprisoned with someone they no longer love or with whom they cannot get along, but that's not the case here. We are becoming even more intimate and more forgiving. If you can let go of the terror and escape whatever depression surrounds this pandemic, then it's possible to see this as a magical time.
I learned long ago that Donna (said wife) does not do things I would like her to do because it's not in her nature. It is not that she doesn't want to pick things up or put things away. She does. And she doesn't. Whatever she does is the best she can do. She knows I value tidiness and order; yes, I'm somewhat OCD but not psychotically so. So, for the most part, I let it go. But in this quarantine, something different is happening. If she doesn't clear the table at my speed, I'll do it for her. If I'm the one to wash the sheets and towels, so be it. I'll do it. Without keeping score. In fact, I have begun to look for things I can do for her proactively.
Some things she simply does better than me. I don't order six pairs of shoes to try them on. When the pile of boxes stays around too long after she's made her decision, I ask they be boxed up and returned. For her part, instead of griping about it, she boxes up the shoes and sends them on her way. We are both stepping ahead of demands because we understand, now more than ever, how valuable one is to the other. That's the sunny side of a pandemic, methinks.