Now that I’m on a tear typing words, instead of “code”, I’ll provide a little additional backstory to where all these posts are coming from.
Long time readers of this blog may remember a series of posts, “Back at Starbucks – …”. I started blogging for two reasons: 1) I like to talk, too much as is apparent in my long wandering posts, and, I’d wore out the ears of actual meatspace listeners, so I started talking to the ether, i.e. blogging, and, 2) I had a personal situation that was exiling me from my house for most of one day a week, i.e. at Starbucks with just my laptop for company.
Now that same situation has gotten more extreme and so I find myself in exile full-time. It’s silly enough when millennials do it but now I too, at 69, am living in my parents’ house. Now one parent is gone and the other is in nursing home and I’m power-of-attorney taking care of my mother’s affairs, including looking after her house, so I figured I could do that job actually moving in her, all alone, but with time for myself to do as I wish.
Now unlike kiddies today I was basically on my own (yes, some financial support) before exiting my teen years, so it’s really strange to be back, albeit in a strange way, under my parents’ roof. This first occurred when I wanted to buy a new car (had the cash for full purchase) but then realized said new car would immediately end up in the very irresponsible hands of a very spoiled addict in my house. The idea of my new car being wrecked before the new car smell had dissipated was too much. So that was my first step back to being a dependent of my parents. I “borrowed” a car they were no longer using and drove that beast until I reached a point where I could buy my own car without fear of someone else wrecking it (and doing who knows what damage to others where the lawsuits would bankrupt me). But think of it, 60+ and driving your parents’ car – not a pretty picture.
But now it’s worse, I’m actually living in their house, with all their junk (yes it is actually junk) and their memorabilia and their treasured possessions all around me (I don’t believe in woo but noises in the house late at night almost make me a believer in ghosts). This is just “temporary” but who knows what happens to me next – I no longer control (at least much) of my life.
So I find myself with a lot of time, especially as, despite being in Omaha for 17 years, I’ve never felt this was “home” and so I have few connections, i.e. flesh-and-blood friends in realtime, so that means I have a ton of time on my own. At first I filled it with binge Netflix watching (my first and almost only change to this house was WiFi and cable modem) and that was good (“Foyle’s War” is fantastic) but steadily I needed more to do. Since my old exercise machines was in the house I’ve now vacated the pounds crept back on and my muscles (all those stats stories and as well as dreams of long walking trek) began to atrophy so off to join a gym – good enough, but much easier to sit here at computer and stay on a typing binge.
So that’s why I’ve drifted back into finding fun ways to use all this spare time doing utterly useless (but somewhat interesting, at least to me) programming. And I’m thankful. The first time in my life I found myself alone, after over a decade of having another body in my space, I had none of this – no cable, no Netflix, no Net, no computers I owned (I still had them at work, but none, I could afford, at home). So these various toys do make it easier. Loneliness is tough, even for a fairly solitary person like me. Wintertime, no camping trips to Wyoming and just casual contacts around a campfire to spend the evening. So cyber-experience is, not all, but most of where my hours go. So when I can go straight for hours, without even eating (yep some trips to bathroom to discard used coffee are unavoidable) I’m thankful. And I’m thankful to you, Dear and Patient Reader, even if you don’t really exist (I can at least imagine someone will read these words) because at least talking to an (mostly) empty room is better than talking to walls.
So I’ll keep the boring posts coming – thank you WordPress.com. And thank you to those few special people I know actually exist who manage to wade through most of my palaver.