Accounts of lasting relationships rarely come unvarnished, but we need to be much more honest when we talk about love and marriage
My husband sweeps in, catching me listlessly watching a video of hippos eating pumpkins, one hand clawed around my mouse, the other holding my slab of Desk Chocolate, a snack category I have recently introduced to my home office. Earlier I was putting it back in its packaging between bites, but this pretence ceased hours ago. I am busy, but achieving nothing, because I am distracted by the things I am not doing, the things I have failed to do previously, and those I will fail to do next. Also because of the hippos.
My husband, by contrast, is wholly in the moment. He exudes energy, purpose and other alien-to-me concepts. His arrival causes our ancient dog, which has finally stopped moaning about the general state of its life, to jump as if electrified, then start moaning again.