Flipping through channels the other day on my TV, I caught a few seconds of some true crime show where someone was talking about someone else being under "house arrest," meaning they were confined to their homes awaiting a court date. Two thoughts hit me: I'm kind of under "house self-arrest" these days and it ain't that bad.
Leaving aside occasional trips to doctors — I got me a flu shot — I rarely leave my house. Actually, I should say I rarely leave my block since once a day at least, I go out and walk around it. Friends call and suggest outings to restaurants or theaters and I say no. I've tried going out to eat a few times in the last few months and even though it was to familiar places that I like with people I like, I felt very uncomfy and very eager to be home. So I say no to all such invites, including some I'd have loved in non-COVID times.
I'm triple-vaccinated. I have great masks. I'm less worried about getting the virus than I've ever been and I understand that this cannot be a permanent condition and I'm sure it won't be. But still even though The Pandemic is lessening in my area, I am less inclined to leave my house than ever. That's one of the reasons I withdrew as a guest from the Comic-Con Special Edition on Thanksgiving weekend. I didn't want to be anywhere near that far from home.
How do I explain this? I can't…not to myself and certainly not to anyone else. If I didn't have Instacart to bring me supplies, ZOOM to converse with others and a few friends I trust to come visit, I might have a powerful urge to be elsewhere. And like I said, I'm sure I'll ease out of this stay-at-home obsession one of these days. But right now, please don't ask me to come see you perform somewhere or to join a bunch of friends at a great restaurant. I'm happy here under "house arrest."