I’ve been on house arrest for almost three months now. The 15th will be the official marker. I’m almost a quarter of the way through my year-long sentence. I have just over 9 months left to go.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I can do during that time. I want it to mean something. Nine months… I could have a kid? I’ve got time. It’s possible, though perhaps ill-advised at this point in my life. I’d like to think that most of my misguided decisions are behind me, at least the big ones anyway.
The UPS man in my area has been to my door nearly a dozen times since I’ve been on house arrest. I’ve gotten into a little bit of online shopping. Nothing too grand. Just some random purchases. I’m part of a cheese club now. I get a cooler full of three different cheeses with a descriptive pamphlet once a month. Last month, the delivery conveniently landed on a day when I was depleted of groceries, and wouldn’t be able to go to the store for a few days yet. I immediately ripped into the delicate package like a savage and feasted on the mountain of cheese, giving no regard to the decorative pamphlet and its recommended wine pairings.
I felt dirty after, but the cheese was delicious. Such subscriptions are geared, I imagine, toward sophisticated people who will savor every cheesy top note, rather than starved prisoners who will wolf them down like a Whopper.
Another thing that’s been coming to my apt is a steady stream of Netflix movies. I decided to only rent movies that are on the AFI Top 100 list. I’ve already seen quite a few of them, but I have a goal to have watched every one by the end of the year. I am an actress, after all, so it seemed like a productive idea when I first put them into my rental queue.
Now, as much as I know that I’m watching quality, critically-acclaimed movies, I will admit that I’m not always in the mood to watch them when they arrive. I’m not familiar with them in the way that I am with newer releases, so when they show up I don’t necessarily know what to expect. A good example is when I turned on Apocalypse Now the other day. The first 10 minutes of the movie are dedicated to showing, in gruesome detail, a person confined to a room literally going insane, punching in a mirror in what appears to be a paranoid attack, rolling around screaming, then smearing his body with his own blood. I couldn’t help but feel slightly horrified, given my fears of confinement for the next 9 months.
Whatever sordid movies may be on their way to my apartment, I do look forward to the next shipment of cheese.
279 days to go.