It's Tuesday Not Wednesday

Don't you hate that? Waking up, thinking it's a day later than it actually is? This whole holiday-at-the-beginning-of-the-week business was nice, but it has thrown me off. A little too far off, it seems. I am a creature of habit.

This coming weekend I will be going to the boonies to see friends. I really enjoy the country, the silence, the animals, and the picturesque landscape. There's something otherworldly about the places where cell phones don't get signals and email is some inorganic daydream. This wasn't as true all that long ago. But now with everyday life inundated with modern technology and the stress that accompanies it, I often fantasize about rural living. I imagine the peace, the excellent visibility of stars at night, the well-worn porch swing, the secret garden in the backyard, the airy kitchen with a view of the gaggle of geese on the pond. The privacy...

Then I remember that it would take an hour to get to work, the grocery store, the movies, the robot repair shop, and the fantasy melts away. Or as Baby G likes to say, "it'd take you 15 minutes just to get from one end of the driveway to the other!"

That's the thing about fantasies, isn't it? Their ephemeral flimsiness in the harsh light of day sets off the alarm bells of practicality, leaving one to curse the gift of imagination. Don't worry, I don't curse it for long -- sometimes my imagination is the only place I have to go where existential angst and spiritual confusion don't exist. Oh, and it's also the only place where The Land of Chocolate exists.