Antisocial Distancing

Beginning this morning, Spouse is working from home. Till further notice. In our tiny, teeny, ~600 square-foot dollhouse of an apartment.

We have a bedroom just big enough for a bed, a wardrobe and a dresser (so long as the bed is pushed into a corner and Spouse is willing to clamber over me to get in and out of it).

We have a kitchen just big enough for a small (5 feet high) refrigerator, a sink, an oven range, two small counters, and two shelving units (necessary because there are no upper cupboards).

We have a bathroom just big enough for a sink, a toilet crammed under an eave, and a shower smaller than a phone booth (link for those who don't remember phone booths). 

The only room of any size is our living room, which is full to bursting and has:

• a sofa
• two ottomans
• a television
• shelving
• my desk and chair and computer(s)
• Spouse's desk and chair and computer(s)
• three cats, one of whom is hiding behind the media server

So yes, clearly, all the living is done in this room, and I do not see how it will be possible for there to be two people in it at the same time if one of them needs to be working on client calls. I'm not even sure we can both be in the apartment without my actions disturbing Spouse while on the calls. 

We are lucky! We are not sick; one of us has a (probably) stable job; we have savings to see us through a few months. Lucky, lucky, lucky us!

But I am a hardcore introvert who needs people-free time, including spouse-free time. I'm also anxious anxious anxious and I've been using media to distract myself. Oh, and I crank my playlist to eleven (okay, three-and-a-half) when doing housework. And now I'm waving bye-bye-bye to all that, and hello to all of this. I'll be a reasonable grown-up again in about 20 minutes. But right now, I'm pouting.