I am seriously considering not leaving the house until March 31st. Until after the worst of winter.* I would have to allot myself a small amount of time, let's say a few hours, to leave for bank visits and doctors' appointments. But no more than, say, eight hours over three months. This isn't a joke. This is how much I hate winter in New England. As it is, I can go two weeks without leaving the house and forget that I've not been outside until Spooky says something.
I may start small, with just January. If I go to the bank tomorrow, I can easily avoid leaving the house until February 1st. Baby steps. I have my pills. I have music. I have the internet and video games and television. I have roleplay. I have Netflix and Amazon Prime. I have the solace of alcohol and opiates. I have porn from every country on Earth. I have thousands of books. Spooky does the shopping (and hates when I go along). There's nothing out there that I need.
*In Rhode Island, winter is officially over in early June.
Yesterday, I made some good progress on "Excerpts from An Eschatology Quadrille." Unless something stupid happens, I'll be finishing the story today.
I truly wish I were motivated to say more about The Hateful Eight. For example, how cool it was that there were all those nods to Carpenter's The Thing (1982) and how three of Enio Morricone's tracks from the score for The Hateful Eight were originally written for The Thing, but not used for that film ("Bestiality," "Eternity," and "Despair"). Indeed, much of The Hateful Eight very closely parallels The Thing, right on down to the ending. But I find, again, that wanting to discuss a film and having the requisite motivation to do so are two entirely different things.
I fell asleep last night watching Roman Holiday, which has a place on my obviously mythical list of the 500 Greatest Films (American and British).
Currently, we have no sun in Providence. It's 32˚F.
I'm going to go drink some coffee. I'm not very fond of coffee.