Lamplights

Los Angeles, California

I live in all of the rooms of my house. And, as I write this, I am reminded of a friend who once told me that she thought of therapy as living in all the rooms of your house. I like that metaphor. But this post is not about therapy. It is about time.

While I live in all of the rooms of my house, there are rooms where I spend more time than in others. Obviously, my bedroom takes up about a third of my day. Through this pandemic time, my living room has become the mat half of my gym, with my dining room serving as the aerobics half. My dining room has a mirrored wall, so it functions perfectly in this capacity, once the dining room table had its leaves removed, and the now-round table has been pushed into a corner.

But I probably spend the most time in my den. My den was not a room I used very much in the past. It has a sectional sofa, and it is the room where the primary TV resides. But, going back ten or fifteen years, I didn't watch a lot of TV. In fact, I watched very little. But now, the TV is more like pandemic central. And the den has become a bit of a cocoon for me. It's a nice room. It has a view of sometimes-stunning sunsets, and a fireplace and a large TV. And it has two lamps.

The lamps are connected to timers so that they come on at sunset. My house is also, more or less, filled with battery-operated candles that also are on timers. This costs me a fortune in batteries when I replace them each quarter, but that's ok. With all the house lights off, the candles provide a pleasing glow, especially in the summer. But again, this post is about the lamps.

I recently noticed that I could no longer read in the evening, as it was too dark before the lamps came on. They were set to 8:45 pm, and that was working fine in June and July. But now, half-way through August, the lamps were running late. So today, I reset the timers to 8:00. That might be a little early, and, in truth, optimistic. But, I went for it. Because I cannot wait for time to pass. It's all I think about. I wanted to skip August. And now I want to skip September, and most of October. Just... move, damn time.

I suspect everyone feels so. I spoke with two friends this past week who are struggling hard. One said that she had received a survey from the CDC which asked, along with other questions, was she feeling depressed as a result of the pandemic? She was alarmed to find that she needed to answer that she was. She is a very vivacious, energetic, and social being. Of course she is going to be depressed. Another friend reported that he wanted to go to restaurants, and wanted to travel the world. Of course we want to do what we cannot. It's getting harder.

Tonight, it is still light outside, and we are in the throes of a wicked heatwave. I will prepare some salmon (remember when this was kinda a food blog..?). I will watch the Los Angeles Dodgers play the Los Angeles Angels at Anaheim (if that makes any sense to you, you should really leave a comment). And I will wait, with some anticipation, for my lamps to light when the sun is on its way down. I feel I've gained forty-five minutes on my daily time watch. I feel I have taken a great big giant step towards autumn. Generally I am not happy to see summer wane. And that giant step... Not a big deal, right? But right now, in the world according to Covid, it somehow feels like it is. Thank you for reading my blog.