Shut In

Most days I sit on my couch, working all day on my laptop.  I work and I work.  When I'm not working, I'm googling or reading blogs - more numb than work, but using the same posture and processes.  Sometimes, I feel hungry.  And I wonder why I should feel hungry, since I've just eaten.  But then I realize that my last meal was over 8 hours ago, and the only reason it seems like a few minutes is because I haven't done anything "new" in that time.

And I look out the window, which my optometrist tells me is a good thing.  In fact, he gave me a great big lecture last time I was in there.  He talked on and on about Stephen Covey and tool-sharpening, obnoxious bosses,  gas-powered leaf blowers, and canoeing to work.  Those rants used to put me off, but now I really look forward to getting my eyes checked.

So anyway, I look out the window at the city bike path, where old men jog dragging squat Chow puppies behind them.  Or Minnesotans bundled up in black winterwear trudge through the cold to return their latest video rental.  It's pretty, but not terribly inviting.

If I look further, I can see the bustle of commerce.  Busses going by, cars pouring in and out of the parking lot of a nearby strip mall.  Beyond that, a lake busy with wintertime activities - skiing, ice fishing, jogging.  Beyond that, Uptown.

But I'm stuck. 

Leaving my house is difficult somehow.  It's hard pulling my front door over the high-pile carpeting.  Then the fire door, two stairwell doors and a gate.  I'll need a key to get into the garage, then another key to get into my car.  Since my garage door opener no longer works, I drive up the ramp to the garage door, power off my car, walk to the manual opener to use my key to get the motor running, then I dash back to the car so I can start it back up to drive out of the building.

So many doors!  So many keys!  So many processes just to get outside of my building!  To make matters worse, I usually don't shower until I'm a) going someplace or b) need a break in the day.  So preceding the door undertaking is the shower-and-dress undertaking.  Showering and dressing is not as complex, but it's time-consuming due to my proclivity to putzing around.

So when I look outside and I think about being one of those bundled-up Minnesotans, or one of those bustling car-drivers; I contemplate all the steps I need to take before getting out there.  And I ask myself if 30-45 minutes of getting ready and breaking out are really worth it.  And usually, the answer is no.

And then I think about the fact that the reason I feel so socially inept is the fact that I don't go out there enough.  I don't know how to order a drink.  And I never pick up one of those free, local papers, so I don't know what's going on in town.  And if someone asks me what I want to do, where I want to go, I just give them a blank stare.  Too much of my life has slipped away that way.  I never thought I would become one of those blank stare people.  But there it is.

And I wonder if this isn't the result of some kind of mental illness.  Would other people be as troubled by the fact that they have to go through some doors to leave the house?  Am I just making it more than it is?

So, some days, I try to commit to getting out.  I won't make coffee, telling myself that I must get it at a coffee shop if I really want it.  But by 11 am or so, I'm comatose on the sofa, reeling from my caffiene dependency headache.  And the day's pretty much shot at that point.   Another day.

For the most part it doesn't bother me that I don't get out.  I don't sit and fret about it all the time.  But some days, when I think about how little I actually do, I fret in batch mode. 

Which is what I'm doing now.