Do you have coronavirus cabin fever?

The downsides of both being at home

How is the working from home (WFH)/ self-isolating going? As someone who generally works from home, I was sure I’d be fine with the new developments. I know the drill: I know, for example, that you cannot risk working within sight of the fridge, or the bed, or the sunny day outside; that you must limit the number of Nespressos you’re allowed in a day; and that if you have the heating turned up past a certain level, it feels dangerously like Sundayafternoon-movie-underthe-duvet time.

Even so, I had not factored in the presence of the man of the house, also WFH. I’d forgotten about not being able to nip to the neighbour’s for a coffee, or pop into the local chemist to idly fiddle with the echinacea bottles. (Those were the days.)

This confinement, plus proximity to the people we live with but are not used to seeing much of, will be a doddle for some (Joan Collins and Percy Gibson, for example), and not so much for people like Us.

Here, then, are some signs that you may already have coronavirus cabin fever...

You have already had words about His habit of drifting into the room where you’re working, in search of his specs, then lying on the floor, so as to look under the sofa, sighing a lot, opening and closing cupboards, before (roughly four minutes in) asking you if you have seen his specs. Meanwhile, He has objected to you standing by the kettle waiting for it to boil while flicking through the pages of a magazine.

Normally, you were happy to put on a wash during a natural break. But now that He doesn’t even look up from his laptop when you walk past with an armful of sports kit – and slightly furrows his brow as if trying to block out the unwelcome distraction of You Putting On His Washing – this has become an issue.

The rule with working from home (confirmed with others years ago) is: just shut away the mess. If you attempt to clear up the mess, you will not get down to work until Friday afternoon. WFH rookies want even the out-of-sight places to be tidy before getting down to work, and they want you to “help” achieve it. Unbelievable.

There is a list of forbidden, disruptive things, familiar to all those who WFH. For example: working with the radio on; sitting outside the backdoor if it gets sunny; turning on the TV news. Daytime news is the gateway to Judge Rinder, or God knows what. You cannot, under any circumstances, turn on the TV. When the WFH newbie does these things, it feels personal.

One experienced at WFH knows that you can gain inspiration by going for a brisk walk, or a longer walk to the very special delicatessen. However, this interlude in the creative process is kiboshed if the other worker in the house shouts from the kitchen: “Are you going out? Hang on, I could do with a break!” (This has also made us think that these lockdown weeks are going to be very testing for those who are cheating on their partners.)

You have already had words about prioritising his workstation. The Never Remove charger has been moved to gain slightly easier access, for example. Also, He now has a dedicated work mug.

Because He is only temporarily working from home – eg, has a real job – He doesn’t want to take any responsibility for: answering the front door, getting some milk in, etc. The understanding is that this emergency measure (WFH) is to protect his contribution to society at all costs, a bit like when the balloon goes up and the President gets bundled into the bunker by the heavies with the earpieces. No one gets the President into the safe room and then asks him to wash out the recycling.

There will be a silver lining in this. Just give it time…

I’d not factored in the presence of the man of the house, who is also WFH