“Remoted” – Workday 150 / Day 219 (Wednesday)

Pink  umm...what is this?

It is a pretty surprise when looking out to the deck and seeing there are still flowers in the deck planter. The recently-acquired pot of mums is obviously not a surprise, as they are a fall flower, but the stray bachelor button, red flowers from the potato plant, and pink flower of I don’t know what it is are pretty to see in late October. The leaves are turning from green to red and orange and starting to fall from the tree in the yard behind my house.

It’s still rare to venture very far from the house, and when it happens, I look forward to being back home. The level of homebody-ness currently embraced would horrify my younger self who thought staying home was a punishment, probably because as a grounded kid that is exactly what it was. There have been long stretches of time where home was the place where my stuff lived and the mail arrived, and where I dashed in briefly to change outfits between activities and finally returned to sleep. Staying home on purpose was specifically for being sick, and generally for others like the elderly and the antisocial. Oh, how attitudes change with time, a pandemic, and dogs to keep one company.

Red flower from
the potatoes.

Sometimes, current-me worries about slipping into dangerous waters with the antisocial hermit tendencies. After working, writing, and feeding the dogs and myself, there is barely time to leave the house, not that there is anywhere to go, or a modicum of energy available to bother going. When it’s cold, there is even less interest in making the effort, if it's at all possible to have less than no interest.

The trip to the new Market Basket has still not happened, and the store has been open almost two weeks now. Not even coupons for free Edy's ice cream in my possession since the summer have gotten me there. 

The tree is changing slowly.

The routine of the days is pretty solidly set with coffee, work, lunch and supper, writing, and sleep. Writing used to be my favorite activity, but lately sleeping has climbed the ranks and is closing in on the top position. Eating is still solidly in the top three.

Hopefully, the preference for avoiding activity will shift again like the seasons, and there will be a renewed spark for doing anything more than nothing. The idea of the nothingness sounds boring, and occasionally even alarming, but while I’m doing it (or am I actually not doing it?), it feels okay. Until a shift occurs, the quiet life with the dogs, fruit tea, and the remaining oddball flowers on the deck feels pretty okay. I can ponder whether what is happening is actively doing nothing, or passively not doing something. Either way, inertia is a real thing.