Since the Wife now Works from Home, a poem by Paul Browner

Calling her sister has become ‘reaching out.’
Dinner a domestic team huddle. I’m allotted
10 minutes face time mid-morning and late
afternoon, unless there’s a ‘shit show in LatAm.’
No time to cuddle.

After making a curry from yesterday’s chicken
I’m commended for blue-sky thinking. Usually,
she ‘circles back’ to me about such things, if
she doesn’t have the ‘bandwidth’ to deal with it.
When I questioned the need to defrost the freezer
I was told it would be a good development exercise.

Friday 1-to-1s are wearing, as it’s hard to argue
with a spreadsheet: black and white and dated.
She tries the shit sandwich technique: start with
good news-give the bad news-finish with good
news – hate it. There are so many layers of shit
before the good news comes. However, the
grievance procedure is still a long silence
followed by lashing out at an unrelated target.

As for my end-of-year appraisal, Q1 deliverables
maybe forgotten by Crimbo, unless I ease up on
Q2, Q3, and save some for November. Although
I’d better not clog up her flow chart, or I could
be furloughed after my quarterly review.

Just as well I am so SMART, my goals specific
measurable, achievable, relevant, timely. The
worst is not being able to hide in the jacks though
without pretending to be stock-taking the bog roll.


Bio & Link
Paul is from Greystones, Co. Wicklow, a BER energy engineer, with a wife and three children all now practicing social isolation. Hence, the poem.


  1. Well done Paulie!

    1. You are not alone. Can picture the chaos. Well done.

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