What? Me...normal?

Not even close

I know the word "normal" is subjective. In most cases, normal is whatever's...well...
normal for YOU. But I'm not normal. Or maybe it's just that I'm gettin old.

I've become a homebody. Actually, it's more like I've become a recluse.

And that's just not normal...for me.

I can't think of one, single place I'd rather be than home. Well, except maybe sittin on a beach somewhere with my fat little fist wrapped firmly around a Corona.
But in general, home is where I wanna be.

My whole life, I've always been one who's ready for anything. Ready for new experiences and adventures. Ready to go somewhere. Anywhere. At just about any time. Shopping? Great! Weekend trips? You betcha! Visiting friends? In a heartbeat. Parties? Just tell me where and when and I'm there. Vacations? I'm already packed.

Now, though? Not so much.

Take today, for example. It's a reasonably nice day, sunny though a bit chilly. We're not gonna have many more days like this, and I know that. We were invited out to lunch with some great friends of ours...people that we love to spend time with. And we turned 'em down.

Ok, so I don't feel great today. That's part of it, certainly. But the fact of the matter is, even if I had felt good, likely as not, we'd have turned 'em down, anyway. And I hate that.

The unfortunate thing is that Ziggy is pretty much the same way. Left to his own devices, he'd just as soon live in a remote cave somewhere and never see another person (except for me) as long as he had internet access and cable tv.

The thing is, though...he's always been kinda like that. And I haven't.

I asked him this morning if he didn't think maybe we were too...I dunno...attached, maybe?...to each other and to "home". It's like we don't need anyone else in our little world. I mean, I don't think that's exactly normal. Or not exactly healthy, maybe.

Maybe it's just because winter is coming and we're kind of in a "nesting" phase. Maybe it's just because we're gettin older.

But maybe it's because we're turning into recluses?

Awww, hell. I'm not gonna worry about it until we start wearing Kleenex boxes on our feet, not bathing and letting our fingernails grow six inches.

Uh. Wait. Ziggy was on vacation this past week and he didn't shave for four days.

Maybe I oughta start worrying like...now?