I “go out” fairly often. I can’t say how many times a week that is, but it tends to average out to 4 or 5 times a week. And since weeks are 7 days long, that makes it a majority. It hasn’t really done me much good, though, because my main goal in going out is to write. And that ends up being one of the last things I actually do.
Like right now. Instead of writing a story, I’m on Facebook as well as writing this post. Maybe doing that now will get it out of my system so that I start actually writing when I get back home. Not that I really know when that’ll be.
But I enjoy going out for another reason: Getting to see and hear – and even interact – with little kids can be quite [gratifying]. I admit I no longer want my own children – for a couple of reasons that I think of as fairly logical – but interacting with them can be quite fun. And I don’t have to “tolerate” their bad behavior or their being tired and grouchy and needing a nap or etc.
My tolerance level isn’t nearly as high as it used to be. I can say in all honesty that it’s because of my TBI 15+ years ago, but I’ve adjusted somewhat. It’s not as low as it used to be. And I’ve figured something out concerning kids and having a good time: If I can actually send them home with their parents, I’ll “spoil” them. Though in all honesty, spoiling them is one of the last things I actually want to do.