Hi, there, Dear Reader. It’s early afternoon here in Lithia, Florida, on Sunday, January 2, 2022. It’s a warm winter day in the Sunshine State. Currently, the temperature is 82˚F (28˚C) under sunny skies. With humidity at 71% and the wind blowing from the south-southwest at 13 MPH (19 KM/H), the feels-like temperature is 86˚F (30˚C). Today’s forecast calls for partly sunny skies and a high of 85˚F (29˚C). Tonight, we can expect scattered showers. The low of 64˚F (18˚C) will be accompanied by some breeze.
If you are a regular reader of this blog, you probably know that I did nothing particularly exciting for New Year’s Day 2022. I didn’t usher in the Neujahr with a traditional champagne toast or watch the ball drop on Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rocking Eve or whatever that staple of television is called nowadays.
I also did not hang out with my housemates; the younger ones went out with their significant others or best friends, and The Caregiver alternated doing chores and cuddling in front of the TV in the common room with her boyfriend. I feel like a fifth wheel when they do that, and since I don’t have friends of my own locally, I spent much of my time in my room either writing on my blog or watching The Devil Next Door on Netflix.
This second day of Anno Domini 2022 is, in essence, a repeat of the first; the only difference being the breakfast menu. (English muffins instead of croissants if you can dig it.) Otherwise, it’s – as they say in the military – Sierra Squared, Delta Squared.
As usual, I woke up earlier than I would have liked: at 4:30 AM Eastern – yowza! I tried to go back to sleep, but that proved to be futile, and by 6 AM I was finishing The Devil Next Door. (I turned my TV on with the sound down to the bare minimum and with the subtitles activated so I wouldn’t wake up The Caregiver’s youngest, who was asleep in the adjacent bedroom.) I then gave Sandy, our schnauzer, her morning snack, then killed time on Facebook until breakfast was served around 11:30 AM.
If I had friends (besides the ones I live with, that is) in the Tampa Bay area, I’d probably make some plans, even if it just involved hanging out at their house or at an affordable restaurant (such as Denny’s). Alas, I don’t, so I have to find some way to amuse myself until dinnertime and it’s – once again – time to decide what the hell to watch on TV.
My options for killing time include:
- Finding a comfortable spot to read a book, preferably not in my room
- Watching videos on YouTube
- Watching one of the 391 movies (soon to be 392 on Tuesday) or 58 TV seasons that I have on Blu-ray
- Listening to music
- Watching something on Disney+, Netflix, or Amazon Prime Video
- Wasting time on social media
- Going out for a walk
In my old back-in-Miami life, I did not have such a tough time deciding what to do on weekends. Not even during that brief period (late July of 2015 through early April of 2016) when I lived mostly on my own in what was once my house.
Then, of course, I had to fend for myself and was busy doing housework and cooking my own meals, but I also had friends and neighbors I could hang out with if I wanted to.
I could, of course, go out to the Common Room and watch something on the “big TV” with the home theater sound system, but I would rather not. I don’t enjoy hanging out with the Caregiver or her boyfriend, and even if I did, their taste in TV fare differs so vastly from mine that it’s not even funny.
I mean, seriously. How many hours of watching HGTV programming can one watch and still remain sane?
So no. Hanging out with my contemporaries here is not an option.
I’ll figure something out. Eventually.