why does leaving the house feel so hard now?

Is it just me, or does leaving the house feel harder than it used to? I moved somewhere I genuinely love, I'm steps from the beach, and I still can't find a reason to put on pants. A conversation with a girlfriend this week made me realize I'm not alone in this — somewhere in midlife, FOMO quietly turned into JOMO, and staying home in my sweatpants with my dog started winning every time. In this one I get into why going out stops feeling worth it, whether it's a midlife thing or just me, and the small experiments I'm running to actually get out the door again (including the best hosting idea I've stolen from a friend). Tell me in the comments — what's the one thing you'll always leave the house for, no matter the friction? I need ideas.