Last night Mary and I went over to a neighbor's house for dinner. We got there at 6:30 and left around 10. It was tremendously good fun to be at someone else's house, eating different food, talking to different people, petting a dog! But still I was feeling a little crappy because I had promised Graham I'd be home in time to watch Bosch but we were running late.
The problem of course is that it's so good for Mary to get out. As I've written recently, she doesn't get out enough, and when she does, she's understandably not eager to get home.
Even in the pandemic, I feel like I'm able to be out and about myself and the most precious thing in the world for me is time with the kids. Time on the couch watching TV is extra-special because there's no work involved, we just lie there with one or the other of the kids' feet on my lap and commune over some mediocre-to-good narrative, share a laugh or two, perhaps a gruesome murder.
We are apparently not alone. There's an article in the Journal today about moms feeling lonely at home. Haven't read it yet
In the end, last night Graham agreed to start watching TV at 10, which is rather late for him, since there was no school tomorrow. So I got to have my cake and eat it too!
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