The scene: I’m trying to be creative, sandwiched between two classes on a Friday morning, when it occurs to me that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to become lost in something. The kind of lost you feel when you forget there’s anything else. So lost that you don’t even know you’re lost. Like that.

Of course, I then remembered that I have no problem getting lost in things; the problem is they’re usually not very productive. Not in a conventional sense, anyway–maybe a better word would be “constructive.”

I’d love to get lost in writing a story. I’ve done it before, so I know it’s possible.

A couple of nights ago I watched a program featuring a couple in the market for a vacation home in Nicaragua. They talked about wanting a second house to go and spend leisure time. Of course, I was envious on many levels. Not only were they buying a second home outside the U.S., but they were going to have time to spend there.

Extra time.

I was stunned.  The idea of being able to go somewhere and and actually spend downtime without worrying about anything other than being inactive–well, it made me jealous. But the capper was that both of these people actually worked for a living. I think that if they’d inherited their wealth it would’ve been easier to take. But on top of the fact that they’re severely loaded, they both work.

Despite this, they still have time to vacation regularly in Nicaragua.