The best part of waking up.

So, I'm not depressed. That's for sure.

I am, however, wanting to get away from a few things. Actually, everything. I want to get away from everything that's occuring in my life right now.

I want to get away from work.
I want to get away from bills.
I want to get away from my paper-thin walled apartment complex.
I want to get away from shopping carts on the lawn.
I want to get away from the temeratures that cause one's(mine. totally mine) electric bill to be a bit harsh.
I want to get away from the need for gasoline.
I want to get away from SUVs.
I want to get away from being unweb.
I want to get away from alcohol.
I want to get away from 10 different types of aluminum foil at the grocery store.
I want to get away from "Today's Top Story".
I want to get away from shallow people. Like me.
I want to get away from the 12 items or less, express lane.
I want to get away from rush hour.
I want to get away from the painful memory.
I want to get away from the fighting.
I want to get away from the horrid anticipation.
I want to get away.

Now, I'm no 111 years old, but I feel as though Mr. Bilbo had peered into my heart and knew something desperate in me when he said, "I need a holiday — a very long holiday — and I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I mean not to!"

I suppose I'll return from my grand vacation. I might. I might not. I mean, how hard can it be to travel to the Ozarks, stay a few days in your parent's condo on the lake; fishing and dining with the greatest of ease; sleeping late; no deadlines...

Why would I want to leave that? Sadly, I have at least another month before the sweet nectar of that trip is even placed before me. Who knows when I might feast.

*Sigh*

As the unnerved Jonathan Harker put it:

God preserve my sanity, for to this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for, that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me, that to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God! Merciful God, let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed. I begin to get new lights on certain things which have puzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet say, "My tablets! Quick, my tablets! `tis meet that I put it down," etc. For now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.