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Quitting the Rat Race

Retiring to Live by the Sea and Write Books – My Fake Journal – Episode 13

At five twenty it’s pitch dark and still, apart from the sound of Willow ‘claw-sailing’ the underside of my mattress which is her personal ‘upside-down climbing’ wall. I say ‘Hey Google, Good morning’ and get the time, date, weather and a random one minute morning meditation from YouTube before switching to the news. As I’m dressing I decide I’ll reprogram her to not give me the news.

I’d like to say I don’t care, I think, as I’m washing my face. But I’m intentionally limiting my exposure to things I can do nothing about. I spit my toothpaste and ponder about how much energy I wasted stressing about the perils of Outer Mongolian badgers or fighting other people’s corners, usually to my own detriment.

I’m broken out of my bathroom reverie by fur intentionally brushing the back of my leg. That’s my cue to make a hasty exit.

Out front I switch on a small lamp, power on the Chromebook and fill up the kettle. I feel like tea today; there’s nothing like a giant builders mug full of strong, hot, sweet tea now and again. It just makes me smile to the heavens. While that’s on, I check the tides. High tide at nine-fifty a.m. Maybe I’ll double my walk this morning to forty minutes. I picked up a couple of web site gigs yesterday, so I’ll be working on those for a good part of today.

I make the tea and slide into my trainers to step out onto the deck, grabbing a seat cushion as I go. It’s a little too dark to start my walk for a few minutes, I think, as I place the cushion and sit down under my little sail thing, which really gives no shelter at all but it looks good. I ‘hmph’ to myself as I think of all the parasols I’ve been through in my life. Could have roofed a football stadium.

It’s getting lighter by the minute, so as I drink my tea I do a quick energy scan. After my ‘top-up’ the other day I’m still brimming with it, so I close my eyes and send some to my family. It’s a bit like imagining throwing a bucket of water over someone while they’re asleep, only there’s no bucket, and the water is ethereal. It’s blue for Dad, green for Brother and yellow for Sister. They glow briefly before I return, finish my tea and walk back inside.

Willow is attempting to open the front curtains by herself, so I help her achieve that, make some coffee for my flask, grab my waterproof and step out. As Billy Connolly once said, ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes.’

About this Series

‘My Fake Journal’ is a self-visualization. It is my future life happening right now. These entries will form part of a book called ‘Quitting the Rat Race’.

Read from Episode 1

About Samantha Dee

Author, Writer, Editor, Coach, Mother of Cats.

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