My Wife Decided to Join the Womens Strike—Here’s What Happened Next

The life of a househusband is sort of like that of a character in one of those post-apocalyptic zombie movies where they live in a fortified bunker and try to keep the relentlessly kinetic but fine motor skills-challenged menace at bay. The first thing you do, assuming you don’t find yourself faced with a full-on assault, is repair existing fortifications. By 10:30 I had added a layer of shirts and jackets to the exercise bike lodged between the right side of the couch and one of the bookshelves; one more box of books added to the gap on the other side was, I figured, more than enough to keep Number One away from the books and records and sharped-edged furniture in the living room.