I've been bouncing around the east coast the past week, doing challenging jobs, seeing wonderous sights and immersing myself in the reality that American drivers are among the world's worst.
One thing I haven't had much time for is the internet. Another is cable news. Even NPR is scarce, as car brain wants to know what the telephone operators, beauticians, gourmands, music lovers and other self-proclaimed multitaskers are up to when they should be paying attention to the ton of metal they are propelling down rain-slick roads.
And you know what? It's been freaking lovely.
Like many here, I'm something of a total media dude, wanting to be on top of every story, commenting on the least bit of commentary. No scrap of political/cultural intel is to small to escape detection, inspection and dissection.
But this week, while packed with knuckle biting joylessrides between huculean, if not sisyphusian, labors, has been a great respite. I am unaware of any reasons to tar or feather Harry Reid. I am ignorant of every word uttered by either Rush or Keith. The president's latest bon mot is a mystery to me. Being out of town, I don't even know what the heck he said in my own neck of the woods, though I'm given to understand from my cat-watching neighbor that everyone's crying that he should have said more. Or stayed longer. Or something.
I did glance at a TV yesterday or the day before in time to see the Boy Not in the Balloon Marathon. Freaking brilliant! You could almost see the "news" directors running through the studio shouting, "OMG! This is better than sharks or missing white girls! This is like sharks actually attacking missing white girls! We'll never have to report a significant fact again!"
To quote the onetime Republican presidential front-runner, why start now?
But I digress.
I just wanted to let you all know how rejuvenating it has been to remove my head from the porthole, out of the information hurricane, for a brief moment. I do not advocate complete permanent withdrawal, or non-involvement in the affairs of society, but a wee break has proved positively uplifting.
Give it a try, if you like. It's Saturday (I think), and someone on the continent is bound to have some nice weather today. Maybe you'll be the lucky one.
And maybe you'll get some neglected task crossed off your to do list, or discover a wonder you'd never seen right in your own backyard (or a thousand miles up the interstate). Maybe, just maybe, you'll reconnect to the subtle joys of just fucking off.
If you can't, no big whoop. I'll be back in the maelstrom by Monday, with all the latest tidbits of what Drudge said about what Keith said about what Rush said about what Obama did and why this is good news for Meghan McCain.
But for now, I've got a record to finish, a mom to move and Spanky and the Love Handles are playing at Rotagilla tonight.
Thanks to you all for staying on top of it while I'm slacking.