In the land of no internet, you have time to do things that normally get sucked up by the time you spend on Facebook.
- Weeding by hand
- Reading a book
- Watching a DVD or two
- Sorting a drawer
- Visiting with relatives
- Having a phone call with your youngest
The land of no internet has neighbors that bring you lemon bars (even if the dogs got to them on the porch first).
The land of no internet has local newspapers and friendly volunteers in the thrift stores who will tell you the weather prediction and when the U. S. Open starts (next week) so that you will be sure not to come here with all the crazy going on.
Yes, you’ll miss Tiger Woods, but the normally-two-hour commute will be much longer with all the golfers and fans coming down here.
In this land you will see deer and fawns and the occasional raccoon. You will discover a gopher making a mess of your front yard, so you let the dogs go to town, digging in the sand to try to reach it. They don’t. Maybe the gopher will get the message and move on, or maybe it will wait it out. After all, the dogs are leaving soon.
Here in this land you put out your green can filled with weeds, with a back-up pile ready to fill it again. You listen to the ocean as you trim your trees and prune your bushes. The dogs bark at every passerby, and there are many out walking, some tourists, most locals. The local dogs sniff at yours behind the wire fence as if to say, “We live here. You’re just visiting.”
A neighbor woman is surprised. “I’ve never seen these dogs before, and I walk this street all the time.”
You have no response. You are here a lot. Could it be that the dogs are in the house on other days? You wave and smile. What else can you do over all the barking?
Here there is time to write while you wait for the misty fog to burn off. It will be 89 degrees at home. You are tempted to spend one more night. But then you will miss exercise class and a bbq and maybe your contractor. And your sis. You need to discuss Jeopardy with her and how that guy with 32 days of winnings finally got the boot, by a woman!
You just texted the contractor. With your phone you can still see emails in case an editor or agent has any news. If you could remember your password you could even do Facebook!
The lemon-bar neighbor has offered up her WIFI password to you. But no! The whole point of coming here is to get out of your rut (daily routine) and shake it up a bit. Do things differently, think differently, act differently.
Each time you come here, it’s a mini vacation. That’s why it’s so hard to go back, especially with the sun breaking out from behind the fog, and the garbage man who just picked up your can.
The sounds of waves crashing, and the weeds, are calling.