House Arrest

Homebody Cara Van Miriah comes up with a strategy to deal with the pain of living 24/7 with her outgoing hubby Ivan.

- Cara Van Miriah

No clubbing, no going to the cafes and bookstores? No problem.

Nine years of homin’ (work from home: WFH) has prepared me for 2020-style “house arrest”.

The best parts of WFH are often overlooked. No more wasting two hours in the mornings getting dressed and commuting to work – and another hour to get home. A day in the office translates to three hours wasted. That’s 15 hours a week going up in smoke – which would be better spent on reading, daydreaming and doing something more productive.

But what was nagging at the back of my mind: How was I going to survive all that time with my extrovert husband for weeks to come? Couples who don’t work together usually don’t see each other 24/7, and this was going to take some getting used to.

Sure enough, Ivan’s face has turned hilariously pale… then white – whiter than Edward Cullen’s. “Omg, another four weeks to June 1... it has been what… three weeks already! I can’t go out with my friends,” he yelps, almost going into a state of shock.

We share nearly the same group of friends. The difference is: They’re loud, and they love to crowd – I don’t. Hell, they make merry anywhere, any time – bars, coffeeshops and even at each other’s homes (except mine, of course).

I roll my eyes, and continue going about my business, while he paces up and down the living room where my work desk is. I put on my headphones and go back to the e-mails that were warning me of the near-death deadlines.