The dog has been fed, TheWife™ has left for work, and the 'commute' was very short: from the first floor kitchen to the second floor bedroom. That's my kinda commute, the kind to be had only on an impromptu vacation day.
The reason? I felt the need to recharge. Every so often this dual life thing, engineer/writer (not to mention husband/parent care-giver/ancient house maintainer/cook/bottle washer/blah-de-blah), leaves me feeling like there's not much left in either tank. A sense of bewilderment seems to creep in, leaving the unsettling feeling that I've forgotten who "me" is.
So I'm up here on the couch, seven bells have just rung at the church across the street, and the whole day stretches out before me. Is there a plan? Yes, a plan to avoid doing much of anything. Isn't this always the vacation itinerary? OK, maybe not everybody's, I can understand that. I'm obviously more of a quiet guy and my time off tends to reflect that. Just look at the musical choice. This isn't the first time I've listened to New Chautauqua in this situation. It's one of Metheny's earliest and finest recordings — full of acoustic guitars, air, and thought — thought being what I need at the moment. Thought slowed down...thought under no pressure.
The only semblance of a plan for today involves a cafe I know of that serves great coffee and snacks, and that has a beautiful atrium that opens out onto the rest of the town. I think my writing pad wants to go there.
Article comments
1 - Pico
Ahh, Metheny's forgotten "folk" record. Discoverd this one in a college library 25 years ago and still listen to it a couple times a year. It's like a cool breeze on a warm, summer day.
2 - Tom Johnson
I always seem to be about 14 more Metheny behind. I don't know how that can be. This is one of them.
And, man, do I know what you're saying about needing those days off once in a while and forgetting who "me" is. Alissa doesn't get this, but I just can't not take days off once in a while just to do nothing.