Last Bay on Your Left

Tomorrow starts the ritual I've observed for almost 25 years now: the annual sojourn to my in-law's cottage. I've written about the place before (type 'cottage' in the Search field up top), so I don't need to do it again. This isn't about that. It's about the mindset connected with being in an isolated place with too much time to think and read. Here's how things will go:

• It will take a day or two to slow myself down to cottage speed. In the meantime I'll be heroin-jonesing for an Internet connection and wondering why, oh, why I'm too cheap-ass to get a smartphone.
• I will wonder why I didn't bring a laptop since I'd have LOTS of time to write that bit of software I never find time to write. Note that I do not own a laptop nor is there any particular bit of software I'm longing to write these days.
• It will suddenly make perfect sense to damn the torpedoes and empty the bank account for a trip to Machu Pichu - if only I had an Internet connection to make the arrangements.
• I will read a lot. Instead of breakfast-time newspaper, I will read a Wired magazine.
• I will discover a burning need to try my hand at writing a short story, start a really great podcast, or address some other creative itch. I will also discover that the intensity of my itch is inversely proportional to my proximity to paved roads and wifi.
• I will be silently thankful that I don't have to be the 'banker' during evening Rummoli. We go broke a lot during that game.
• Showering every other day will be a-okay.
• A sort of Stockholm Syndrome will take hold a day or two before we have to leave the cottage. That feeling will evaporate with my car's A/C kissing my skin.
• On the trip home we will stop for a meal somewhere along highway 400 and it will feel like an oasis.

It's the same every year. Oddly, being cut-off from the world (a little bit) seems to charge my batteries even as I chafe against it all. So, I'll see you all in a week - maybe with something to show for the trouble, but probably not.