The Countdown

After 34 years, I guess I've gotten to know myself quite well. So it comes as no surprise to me that I follow the same, unbreakable cycle each time I'm home-bound:

For the first week or two, I'm very productive, excited by the opportunity to "finally do stuff."
This quickly wears off, and is followed by an extended period of laziness, anti-social behavior, self-pity and the growing belief that I will never leave the house again.
Then, I get sick of myself and rally. I rebound socially realizing that I DO have control over seeing my friends or making new ones. I begin to leave the house and actually find things to enjoy doing while at home. I may even cook (though this is unlikely).
Around this time I get called back to work.
I realize how little time off I actually have left and begin to relish each day. I'm suddenly sad to be returning to work. I take stock of all I'll miss.

After 4 months of isolation, I joined a Mommy & Me group on 1/11.
I got the work call on 1/12, leaving me with 2 1/2 weeks of freedom.
I've now signed up for a playdate AND a museum visit with the group.
I've made dinner plans with a friend I haven't seen in months.
I walked down to chat with my neighbor, a stay-at-home mother and wondered why I hadn't done it sooner, when I'd had time to get to know her better.
I invited people over for a TV night.
I actually got off my ass and began trying to find the floor of our guest room, which had doubled as a walk-in closet.
I've begun really enjoying playing with Otter, taking note of the silly new things she does each day. All too aware that from this point forward, I'll be missing a lot of it. She returned the favor by rolling tummy to back to the right yesterday. With the same, unbridled lack of enthusiasm she showed for rolling left.

I'm excited to return to work. And sad at leaving home.