If I could run away from home...

I know this will sound awful. But there are days (and there have been a number of them this summer) where the only thing that gets me through my day is imagining where I would go & what I would do if I could run away from home. That I'm a 47 year old woman fantasizing about this isn't lost on me.

What gets me through days when my unemployed husband is obsessing on jobs, money & our budget -when my son is on one of his perseverations about computers, computer companies, operating systems, programming, etc. etc. for 12 hours straight like a monotone monologue (I love my son. Seriously. But I dare anyone to make it through a day like that without drifting off mentally.) - when they're at each other's throats because they're both trying to have my full undivided attention - when neither one of them (a) cleans their dishes (b) takes the dog out - and both follow me to the bathroom door (which I shut in their faces) to continue their one sided conversations while I sit on the toilet (not using it, just escaping)....

...I travel in my mind to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Have I ever been there? No. But I've seen pictures. It looks like a nice, quiet, peaceful place to live. I'd take the dog (cause otherwise he'd starve to death or die of dehydration). And we'd live in a tiny little adobe house, whitewashed with a center courtyard, and lots of bookshelves filled with books. I'd spend my days sitting outside my blanket shop, under the shade of an awning just outside the door with the dog at my feet, sipping lemonade, reading and talking to tourists. (Why a blanket shop? I don't know. It just seems comforting.) And at night, I'd have a job in a roadside diner where the only thing I did was serve strong coffee and pie to truckers. Are you there with me? Are you feeling it? Peace. And quiet. Ahhhhh...