TOGETHER AGAIN, AND AGAIN AND AGAIN

Memo to fans of Friends: this is NOT what a real
one-bedroom apartment in New York looks like.

Now that my wife is retired, I could say we’re now seeing an awful lot of each other, but that could be misinterpreted. So let’s put it another way. After close to 30 years of marriage in a one-bedroom New York apartment, we’re now closer than ever. Really close. Like stepping on each other’s feet close.

We had a preview of this situation last year when the pandemic forced Sue to telecommute. Initially, our dining room table became her work station. My usual habit of listening to arcane music and podcasts while cleaning the house was now a thing of the past.

There's a lot to be distracted by here.

Nor did I feel comfortable watching the occasional movie on TCM as I used to. Not so much because it would disturb her. I just didn’t want her to catch me literally sitting down on the job. Too, my guffawing at Wheeler & Woolsey likely would have been distracting to her while she was handling the COVID cases in her company.

 

If you see this logo is on my TV screen, just leave me
alone for the next 72 minutes.

We soon bought a small desk, allowing a corner of the bedroom to double as an office -- call it an officette. With Sue now behind closed doors, I was able to restart the soundtrack of my housework life. And whenever she scheduled two work calls after lunch, it was long enough for me to enjoy one of my beloved 1940s B-movies. Sometimes I could throw in a short subject, too, with her none the wiser.

That kind of harmless hanky-panky is now relegated to a quiet breakfast alone as I finish three online crossword puzzles before she wakes up. It’s the one time of the day I feel a semblance of control, a chance to indulge in my own form of self-medication.

At some point, you see, Sue’s going to be making tea just as I’m trying to clean the kitchen. Or she’s sitting on the floor tearing up old documents while I’m trying to write. If anyone can possess the art of anti-timing, it’s us. It’s at these moments I recall with fondness Sue’s five-day upstate retreat – or escape – without me last summer. 

Just like this -- if we lived in a West Side duplex
and I played piano.

For nearly a week, I padded about the house in my underwear without shame. Caught up with my collection of movies nobody’s heard of. Scarfed down cheeseburgers and frozen margaritas. You know, the kind of simple life that most men could indulge in forever, but sound like hell to women (as well it should).

Sing it, bro!

Lately, I’ve taken to suggesting to Sue that, hey, maybe this is the time for another five days away. Or ten. Heck, I can figure out a way to make it alone for even a month, honey! Go get in touch with your inner chi or whatever it is you do – I’ll be rooting for you right here!

Don’t get the idea we’d prefer living our lives actively avoiding each other. We enjoy our shared meals, long walks and bike rides, and are looking forward to traveling again (a dream, alas, that keeps getting put off with every new COVID variant). But we also need a little time apart.

 

 

You see, for some inexplicable reason, Sue needs a break from me now and then. (I know -- crazy, right?) Sometimes it’s one of us exploring the city on our own for the afternoon. Often, it’s as simple as spending an hour or so with one of us in the living room and the other in the bedroom, whether to read, nap, or just get rid of stuff we’ve piled up over the years that are no longer needed (I’m looking at you, 15-year-old issue of Home & Gardens).

Unretouched photo of us every morning.

Maybe that’s why it’s so nice to hear her say from time to time, with more than a little astonishment, “You know, dear, I still like being with you” – as if, three decades on, she still can’t believe it herself. I know I sure can’t.

Our little in-house traffic jams are already easing up. As Sue gets into the swing of retirement, she’s finding a new rhythm, including a return to the gym a few days a week. Whenever she comes home after yoga, swimming or tap-dancing -- who knew she wanted to tap dance? -- there's a glow around her that I haven't seen since she was pregnant. Which tells you all you need to know about what I do for her.

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More on my crossword puzzle mania can be found here.