I wish I was a homebody. A light wish, certainly not one of my genie-in-a-bottle, big three wishes, but, I would like to know what it’s like to delight at the thought of passing the day indoors, paying no attention to the constant beckons of outside. I’m an outdoor cat. Outside has fresh air, trees, people and over 1 million things to do/smell/hear/taste/feel. Inside has a bookshelf, a TV, a Christmas tree (still), an out-of-tune piano, and laundry, always laundry.
Last night while spending time with my angel of a friend, Elisheba (read her substack, follow her wellness page, subscribe to her youtube channel), we analysed the oddities and intricacies of forming/maintaining healthy friendships as adults in London. While we exchanged stories, advice, and the occasional (loving) side-eye, Lish would haphazardly scramble for her phone, open her notes app and recite an affirmation she’d written that matched the energy of our conversation. As she read to me, I’d nod along while thinking “Yes, she gets it,” she really does get it. So many things to do, so many people to see, so few hands to juggle, but, we try our best while loving ourselves, upholding good boundaries and filling our own cups too— scouts’ honour.
On my way home after such an energising day, I received an apologetic voice note from a friend; something had come up and our plan to get breakfast the following day (today) would have to wait. We quickly rescheduled and then I began to think of the ways I’d spend my Sunday. I’ve had a very social week with not much time to myself, so the thought of a me-day was exciting.
As a lover of efficiency, I mentally mapped out a route for my now-free Sunday that would allow me to do all the things I wanted to do (see: mooching) without having to abruptly haul myself to the other side of London. The plan? Coffee at my new favourite spot and read a little, jump on a bus to the area with my favourite charity shops — browse/shop/manifest the chartreuse scarf that I need in my life, jump on another bus to a gallery to check out the show I’ve been meaning to see, then walk down to the library and return my books, jump on another bus to the supermarket buy groceries blah blah blah, then go home. I remember the first time someone called me “a doer”, I didn’t get it back then, but now I do.
Today, now, 9:46 AM
As the deep blue of the sky refused to fade and my body refused to return to a sleep state, 5:40 AM became the start of my day. Too tired to read, too early for screens, I lay there and thought. I thought and thought about the untameable extroversion that only came to be part of who I am in recent years. I thought about my commitment to living at a steady pace — I hate busy™, I hate productivity porn, I hate rushing, be it around or en route, but, I love to mooch; to go around and pleasantly do seemingly unremarkable things (alone or with friends —friends who know how to mooch are heaven sent). My next thought was slightly invasive, “What if I stayed at home today…all day?”. My most recent at-home days were enforced by a gnarly cold and even then, I still forced my way outside for short walks. Today, however, I am well and warm, but extremely tired; waking at 6 AM every day by default isn’t as sexy as it sounds. Today, I will stay at home. At home, I have coffee, books, crafts, vegetables, WiFi, a bed, a bath, and laundry, always laundry. I was also recommended two films yesterday (Prisoner and the most recent animated Spider-Man film), so I have those too.
Fortunately, I have a job I really enjoy and I no longer see my time spent at work as stolen hours that I need to reclaim. Before, I was constantly in an active battle with day, trying to fight against night’s inevitable arrival. Now, I take a non-confrontational approach to meeting the day. This isn’t one of those “I’m getting older/wiser/going out less/excitedly spending a night on the sofa,” humble brags — may I never catch that bug, may I always lust for adventure/outside/matcha/orange wine/people/dance floors/sunlit patches of grass — as I said, I’m an outdoor cat.
Today, an off-duty outdoor cat.
It’s now 10:05 AM and I know that Sunday Brunch will be on the TV (long live cable TV pls), I know that I have gym clothes that need to be washed, half a box of soon-expiring chestnut mushrooms that could well be transformed into brunch, I have two episodes left of Black Cake that I am dying to watch, two salt-and-pepper eyebrows that are due a dose of bleach, a Christmas tree (still) that I could help to strip bare, writing (always writing) and the words of Octavia E. Butler that I’m eager to digest.
It’s now 10:37 AM and I am off to embark on my day as an indoor cat. I’ll let my phone stay on last night’s ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting (cats don’t have smartphones), I’ll try to force a nap around 3 PM and I’ll probably challenge myself to not see this imposition as something to resist, to revel in the fact that I don’t need to figure out what to wear and to be grateful to have indoors that allows me to cat.
Meow. Purr.
Listen to: Song For My Sister’s Son - Okonski