Duty-free Scotch for the Soul

Two weeks ago, a few days of silence and solitude at home – my favorite place to be – did wonders for my state of mind. But it wasn’t perfect. Total escape was hindered by a few hitches: the sticky note list of still untackled projects shouting at me from the screen of my laptop and the mountain of laundry-to-be-ironed obstructing the path to my bed, just to name two. To really escape from life for a while, you simply have to put physical distance between yourself and all the responsibilities / obligations / chores that come with your home and continually whisper in your ear.

Here’s the solution: go to a place that feels just like home, but without any of the duties. A place where you are free to be a couch potato, the coffee is brewed and delivered in your favorite mug by someone else and the Scrabble board is set up in front of you. While you cream your good-natured opponent, the soft sounds of a Star Trek episode and the chef preparing the Wiener Schnitzel can be heard in the background. In the evening, someone cracks open the Glenmorangie and the discussion surfs over Fibonacci waves from the Gulf of Mexico, past the Moulin Rouge, NPR podcasts, Afghani prisons, stupid pet tricks, and my mom, finally crashing on a beach in front of the Republican Party headquarters as hell freezes over and the world’s problems are once again solved.

On Day Two, you wake up whenever you wake up and then blog about it.

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