Now That My Husband Is Home All Day, I Can’t Hide Anything From Him


Pre-coronavirus, my husband was essentially never home. He spent his days at the gym or the pool and worked five or six nights each week until midnight. I adapted to his schedule early in marriage and tailored my routine so that I stayed busy while he was away and relaxed and had fun with him when he was home. But when the coronavirus came into our lives, everything changed. 

There is no gym, no pool, no bar, and my husband’s line of work has been severely impacted. We go on walks and run errands, but we are very much living out the Stay At Home order. Shortly into our lives sheltering in place, two of my deepest darkest secrets were forced out in the open, and there was nothing I could do about it. So here they are:

My Pajamas Aren’t That Cute

About a week into the pandemic situation, I came out of my evening bath and into the living room where my husband sat on the sofa reading on his iPad. Then he started laughing. 

“What?” I asked, confused. 

“Those look like boys’ pajamas,” was his answer. 

I was completely shocked. My pajamas are made of super soft modal and they are pale blue with a white floral pattern, which feels pretty darn feminine to me, thankyouverymuch. But he insisted that they reminded him of the nighttime wear he and his boy cousins wore as kids on sleepovers. I fervently disagreed, but there was no changing his mind, not even when an ad for my exact p.j.’s popped up on Facebook and I showed him the gorgeous model wearing them. 

In case you’re wondering how my own husband has never seen my pajamas, let me explain. With my man home only one to two nights per week, I put in a little extra effort on these days. On his days off I head to bed in a lacy silk nightgown, but I take it easier when it’s just me and my glass of wine. By the time he gets into bed, the lights are already off and my supposedly little boy pajamas are hidden from view. At least, that was the case up until now. 

I Clean With Hella Chemicals 

I put a lot of strategic effort into making it appear that my home is sparkly clean because of some kind of inborn magical powers I possess. But I can no longer hide what happens behind the scenes. It’s not magic. It’s bleach baby. 

My hubby has a sensitive nose and he can’t stand it when I use chemicals around him. So I don’t. But now, of course, he is always around. I like things clean. It makes me happy. And as the dirt built up and it became exceedingly clear that the oven needed cleaning every time I used it, my anxiety level slowly but surely rose until it finally boiled over. Of course, the day I could no longer stop myself from deep cleaning came when the outside air was dangerously smoky because of the California wildfires, and opening the windows wasn’t a great idea. We pretty much all passed out, and now my husband is very familiar with how many toxic chemicals hide behind my domestic goddess veil. Oh well. 

These aren’t the only secrets that are now out, they’re just the biggest ones. My loving life partner also now knows that I don’t really know that many recipes and I destroy the bathroom walls every time I dye my hair (before I bleach it all away, of course), among other things. All I can say is at least the pandemic has allowed us to get to know each other better, and I’m pretty sure he still likes me.


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