I Don't Go Out Much

I don’t go out much any more. Call it summertime hibernation. The blackout, block-out drapes are drawn to a close. The horizontal and vertical blinds too.

Candles lit at night aren’t for the esthetics. Night lights shed a soft glow so as not to step on Elvis, my Burmese buddy in black, or from tripping over Sassy, a Siamese pretty boy with the bluest of eyes reminiscent of those of Paul Newman.

The 82 degree thermostat setting suits a person with hypothyroidism. For the rest of us, a few moments in the blistering heat and stifling humidity makes the indoor temperature feel like a touch of cool springtime air.

Try as I may, for too long words have been ignored that the air movement from an overhead fan are only affective when you’re in the room, otherwise it’s wasteful electricity. As is too often the case, not until someone else makes the same claim that there’s a miraculous moment of understanding. Pointing out the fact that it’s been said many times before is as pointless as saying, I told you so. I empathize with Rodney Dangerfield.

There are no shade trees to shelter the house from the heat of the sun. The three trees that the builder is supposed to leave on the property were jokable. Two scrub bushes and a sickly, barely rooted sand hill pine tree didn’t make for an umbrella effect. The saplings from the Arbor Day Foundation for a token contribution may take years to grow hip-high, so rainy or cloudy days are needed to keep the electric bill down.

A moment of respite from this self-imposed isolation might come with dinner. A buy one, get the second half off is a good deal but the occasional two for the price of one is the best. Still, I’d rather cook the meal myself, preferably on the grill. No overhead costs, no head counts garnering wages or tips and no feeling of being short-changed in quality, freshness or service. The best experiences are at family-owned restaurants where faces, if not names, are always recognized.

These days of isolation aren’t to be considered antisocial. As I quizzed a friend, What do you do whenever you step out of the house? After a pause, I suggested he think about it a moment longer to which he responded, You spend money? Teacher turned carpenter, he nailed it.

From the moment the garage door opener does it’s thing to the ignition of the vehicle, and hence the trip from, to and back, there are costs incurred, however slight, that tally up and creep deep into the pocket book.

However un-American it sounds, if it can’t be paid in cash or by debit, spending is to be avoided at all cost. Is it a need or a want? Sometimes a good-feeling purchase brings a little joy but those little purchases add up and might be better put toward paying down debt or, more immediate, to pay a utility bill. No added debt, no regret.

Making the best of an outside venture is a priority. For instance, a cashier looked so grumpy I thought of seeking a different register but I stuck it out for the few items in the basket – only what was truly needed. Somewhat surprisingly, the lady greeted as she had been trained. I offered a conciliatory comment that she appeared to be having a very bad day. She admitted so. Days of sinus headaches make for a protracted period of discomfort, thus the look of despair. But she perked up a bit, saying she had but a few minutes before her shift was to end. It was fifteen minutes before the hour so relief was indeed on its way. Pleasantries ended our meeting with the feeling that a simple exchange of words was of some value to both of us.

A trip to the airport and the ensuing wait was annoying. The plane was delayed a few times until two hours had passed. Regrets for failing to bring the newspaper or a couple of magazines to which I still subscribe were momentarily forgotten when a mother was heard telling her daughter, about four years old, that a sign on the wall read ‘No crying allowed’ and if the little darling couldn’t hold back the tears, she’d have to ‘go over there’ and wait. There was no such sign! It was a glass-encased fire extinguisher! Not a peep from the girl but chuckles came and went a number of times – from me. I was in awe of a mother’s creative, if not wise, means of parenting. Cheap and priceless entertainment, thank you so very much.

Hopefully these days of penny-pinching will become addictive. I don’t want to become a hermit, but for now I don’t get out much anymore.