Staying Put

I am by nature a homebody, and I have grown a lot by overriding that as much as I can. I can even convince myself that I've gotten over it, but there is inevitably a moment where I realize that it is still there, and that I am still not naturally a person who flees the home at every opportunity. I still look for reasons to stay home- to decline opportunities to go out. I feel badly when I do stay home in the face of such opportunities, so perhaps I am straddling the line.

There are those times where I am holed up at home alone for a prolonged period of time, and it's a peculiar experience. The home can feel like an incredibly expansive world, even when you live in a modestly sized abode like mine. The far end of the apartment, which contains the living room and kitchen, can seem as far away and exotic as Thailand. The area between my bedroom and the bathroom can be all the space I feel I need.

Of course there are also those times, probably more frequent, when the entirety of the place is not enough. At such times, I am often restless and go for a walk. At other times, I am fleeing some distraction, such as a building manager who is determined to test every fire alarm in turn, one after another. In any case, I have my reasons for going out. Sometimes I just want to be able to say I did, which is about the polar opposite of my feelings the rest of the time.

Sometimes I'm not so hell-bent to go out, but I'm at least willing most of the time. Even when I feel I must stay in order to complete some writing, I find that I am entirely stuck until I take even a few minutes away from the matter both psychologically and physically. I'll come back at such times refreshed and finish the task in such a short amount of time that I realize how skewed my reasoning was when I was determined to remain. I guess that's what you call stir crazy.