“You don’t need to feel better to go outside. You need to go outside to feel better.” – Chris Smooth

Well, Chris, next time just tag me by name and spare the subtext. No need to be subtle when calling a man out of his cave.

Because yes, I’ve recently discovered that I can go several days without setting foot outdoors. But every now and then, I do lurch out into the daylight on an expedition to, say get the mail at the curb – I’ll shield my eyes like a groundhog startled out of retirement. I squint upwards and mumble, “So this is… The Outside, huh?”

Of course, going outside isn’t as simple as it once was. These days it involves doctor-ordered rituals – SPF 50 slathered on like icing on a birthday cake and a hat. I only own one good hat – a once-in-a-lifetime Dodgers cap – and I’ve already had four of those, which raises philosophical questions I’m not emotionally equipped to answer.

I’d prefer to go early in the morning or later in the evening, but that’s when it’s cold and dark in these parts. Plus, daytime walks increase the risk of being mistaken for someone who might need a lift home, which is frankly not always incorrect.

Still, Chris makes a compelling case. The Outside may not fix everything, but it rarely makes things worse if approached respectfully. So I’m integrating it into The Plan. It’s a soft plan. A draft plan. But a plan nonetheless. (I’d go for a walk for research today, but I’ve got to work on The Plan.)

Sometimes, the hardest thing about going outside is remembering there’s a door. And that it might not be a bad idea to sometimes use it.