phone that has given up the ghost. I mutter about escaping to the countryside, away from all of this.
The ongoing fantasy is something about Montana and raising goats. Not that I've ever been to Montana, or know much about raising goats. It's a fantasy. My version of that whole Thoreau at Walden thing.
Beyond those moments of fantasy, I'm a realistic soul. So I present:
Ten reasons the Walden life is really not for me.
- Pollen is not my friend. seriously. I was outside for an hour and my body's reaction to the pollen load was to congest me enough that I couldn't hear out of my left ear.
- I enjoy being in contact with other people. In person, internet, phone... the whole nine yards.
- Takeout. (Ok, I suppose Thoreau had his mother and the Emersons sending care packages...)
- Bean farming is more work than he told. I can only imagine goats would be moreso.
- I'm all about journaling, but only if I don't have to do it longhand.
- Nature sketches? Um...no. My drawing skills are so limited that an art teacher thought I was being impudent.
- Winter. Especially winter. I have limited potential for the season anyway, but trapped by myself in a cabin surrounded by snowbanks? That would be attractive for about two naps.
- Washer and dryer. And someone to remember to get the clothes OUT of the dryer.
- Television. Even though Scandal is done for the season, there are so many movies I need to see yet.
- Self-reliance isn't really a life goal for me.