Nuclear oblivion might not be so bad after all — “You have to feed the cats,” yelled my wife from the other side of the bed. “Fuck the cats,” I mumbled. Such retorts are now possible since my wife and I decided to get separate quilts — a game changer for marriage and, surely, ‘a positive step on the road toward separate beds,’ as she puts it. Between my wife’s constant Hitler-like commands and the cat…