An enormous box arrives at our house. It is filled with food and cleaning supplies and, yes, toilet paper. I feel guilty. But the truth is, these supplies were ordered months ago. My husband, Peter, was a hoarder long before hoarding was in fashion. “Here you go!” Peter says, as he unpacks the latest shipment. “Eight more pounds of oatmeal!” My oatmeal consumption over the past few weeks while writing would certainly set some sort of record had I been keeping track. Peter pulls out a one-gallon bottle of hand sanitizer—also ordered before everyone in the world wanted it. “You see?” he ...