Preston Woodruff held it together for months during the pandemic—working in his garden and making musical instruments in his workshop, sharing meals with his daughter, and walking in the woods behind his home.
Then a sneeze sent him over the edge.
Mr. Woodruff was sleeping soundly when he woke to an uncomfortable feeling in his nose. He rolled over and reached for the box of tissues he keeps on his nightstand. None peeked up from the top. He tried—and tried—to dig one out. The entire wad remained tightly wound.
So Mr. Preston did something uncharacteristic: He grabbed the box in a rage, crushed it in his hands, and flung it at the far wall of his bedroom. Alone in the dark, he slammed his head back on the pillow and swore.
“I momentarily lost it,” says Mr. Woodruff, a 74-year-old retired philosophy professor in Brevard, N.C.
Welcome to the Pandemic Meltdown. Have you had yours yet?
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