My friend asks if after a month in house with my feet up, do I have cabin fever. I stammer something like, "I have plenty to keep me busy and entertained (like writing down stuff like this). I admit it was refreshing to get out for two doctor's visits and one brief time on the front porch soaking in some sun and swatting mosquitos.
Basically, however, I have not bored myself. I am learning through this that I do better LIVING than I do WAITING. When I live I simply accept what is happening and go with that as thoroughly as I can--often enjoying it. When I just wait for something different to happen I discover I am in fantasy land. It is a nice place to visit but no place to live--too fleeting and undependable.
So I'm not "Waiting for Godot" and that meaningless dead end.