Any day I don't have to go anywhere is good day, dude. The answer tumbled from my lips before I had a chance to edit it.
He looked worried and I swear he started dialing 911 to get me the emergency help I obviously needed. He might've even Googled Involuntary Commitment on his phone.
Maybe I should've answered better. Maybe I should've said
Why is staying home not good? We call it home, we dust, vacuum, scrub floors and baseboards and Febreeze it to make it feel homey, and yet people think we're crazy if we want to stay inside and enjoy it.
Although I meant -- and mean -- every word of that, I didn't say it.
Maybe I didn't say that because deep down in my bones, I know the greater joy in not leaving the sacred doors of home is in the not-having-to-make-yourself-presentable to people who live outside of your home.
Understand, I've been willingly unemployed since June of this year; and there was a lot into the project that is me and the level of presentable needed for going to work and not frightening colleagues, small children and the elderly.
So the first day I wasn't required to be there, I clearly remember the realization of not having any pressing, scheduled reason to strap on a bra, don clothes that suck in all the things that are dying to be un-sucked and completing the five point ordeal associated with slapping on makeup.
And it was fricken AWESOME.
I also remember the days of bursting in the house at 5:30p after work like a starter pistol went off, kicking off shoes followed by the immediate kneaded dough swelling of my feet, culminated by the home stretch to the bedroom where I could FINALLY unhook the hooks in the back that held everything up in front and let out an X-rated groan of relief.
And the groan, while X-rated (big apology to everyone who lives with me, my next door neighbors, my neighbors across the alley and probably the ones across the street and five blocks down, too), was also AWESOME.
So would I change my response to my husband's keen observation?
Nope. I stand by my answer.