A general observation about doing nothing.
When I was married, I never minded not having plans because there was always someone to do nothing with. When you’re sitting with another person, watching TV or whatever, it seems to be more valuable because you’re spending time together – even if you’re not really communicating.
It’s interesting how my perspective has changed now that being home means being home alone. I find myself making plans well in advance just to make sure that I have them. Staying home is no longer the default; it’s become something that I made a conscious decision to do. Or not do, as it goes.
The problem is that I like being home. I’m starting to like my house; I’m exhausted from teaching all week; I have lots of interests that are home-based, such as drawing, calligraphy, painting, knitting, sewing. I don’t always want to be out, but I don’t always want to be alone.
And laughing is weird. Seriously. When I find myself laughing uproariously at something in a movie, for instance (or tonight, when I was watching the season premiere of The Office), sometimes I stop myself and thing that it’s weird that I’m laughing by myself. Like talking to myself. I know it’s not the same, but it felt strange at first.