At the beginning of COVID-19 quarantine measures, my floors were sparkling. I was caught up on laundry. The upstairs carpets were regularly hoovered and the dishes were washed almost as quickly as they were used. Now? Let’s just say it’s a good thing I’m not expecting any surprise visitors for the foreseeable future.

I’ve lost track of exactly how long I’ve been working from home (I’m just calling every day “Blursday” a term borrowed from one of my favourite TikToks). I’ve also lost track of how many bottles of wine my husband and I have consumed.

We’ve binge-watched After Life, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Parks and Recreation, The Sopranos, The Last Kingdom, Tiger King (of course) and just about any other true-crime murder mystery you can find on Netflix. We’ve watched nature documentaries and re-watched our favourite travel programmes – just so we can dream of travelling again, one day.

Farm families are very good at living in isolation

But really, when this is all over, will my life be drastically different? I’m not so sure. Farm families are very good at living in isolation. Parents of small kids rarely get out. With demanding jobs, childcare, schooling and the farm, I think Leo will finally announce our freedom and, perhaps a week or two later, I’ll be speaking with a friend or co-worker and they’ll ask how I’ve been celebrating; where I’ve been going – and I won’t know what they’re talking about!

Since I’ve been working from home, it’s safe to say my wonderful husband has taken full advantage; getting every little job done that he wasn’t able to do when I was commuting. I feel resentment at the weekend when he’s gone for most of the day and comes home for only one or two hours. In those hours when he’s home, I can either get the week’s shopping done or do some exercise – and really, if I didn’t get the week’s shopping done, we’d be in trouble.

I’m not sure how it is in other houses, but when I ask my husband to keep an eye on the kids, I always end up minding them myself

One day over the last long weekend, he was miraculously relieved of the morning milking and didn’t have many jobs to do, so was home for a longer stretch. I managed to get some exercise in, but then got frustrated when he settled on the couch to watch TV while I was left with preparing dinner. The kids were playing outside and needed minding. I’m not sure how it is in other houses, but when I ask my husband to keep an eye on the kids, I always end up minding them myself. To him, “keeping an eye” means glancing out the window every now and then. We have a toddler – you can’t take your eye off our kids for even five minutes.

It’s safe to say I’ve finally cracked. I’m irritable with my husband, shouty with the kids and – since every day is now Blursday – I feel like my head is in a light fog all the time. Coffee helps; the wine likely doesn’t.

A good friend of mine says she just craves hugs all the time; she really misses the human touch

Something else that doesn’t help is seeing childless couples or singles on social media, wrapped in blankets, watching movies and eating snacks in their pristine homes.

That said, I know quarantine is hard for single people in a different way. A good friend of mine says she just craves hugs all the time; she really misses the human touch. Another says she cries a lot, which has been helping. They Facetime my kids to get a dose of excitement.

Another friend has Zoom chats with her friend’s kids, whom she loves as if they were her own and misses terribly. She helps them with their schoolwork and they bake together. Even more people are dealing with grief and loneliness in a way I can’t imagine. It puts my irritation in perspective.

Then my husband walks in with his mucky boots and it all comes flooding back. And I reach for the corkscrew.

I’m going to start a weekly Zoom support group for disgruntled farm wives in isolation. How many participants can one Zoom meeting hold at a time, I wonder?