The Wranglers are talking about favorite escapes this week. Being a person who can barely tolerate television married to a television worshiper has made me an often frustrated expert on the subject. I think three or four hours a week is a good amount of TV to watch. My hero thinks three or four hours before noon every day isn’t nearly enough.
Yes, escape is important.
I’ve always been able to find a book to get lost in, a place to go, or friends to hang with when I needed to get away from the never-ending flip of channels. But sometimes I don’t want to get away. I want to be home and have quiet. Or be home and watch all of something I like as opposed to a few minutes of many different things.
Another part of the story is that I sew. And I’m not a tidy sewist who puts things away when she’s done. Oh, no, I have stuff EVERYwhere, and when I’m done for the day, I want to leave it there so that I can go right back to where I was. Kind of like opening the manuscript file and there it is, just like I left it. Only sewing is decidedly messier than writing.
So, last year, my husband and son took a fourteen-by-twenty-four foot portion of our garage and made it a room. Complete with a window with a view, a fridge and a microwave, an office space at one end, and a cutting table and two sewing tables. I even have a flat-screen TV complete with my very own remote control.
I spend hours there, writing and sewing and sipping tea while trying to figure out exactly where my manuscript is heading (because I’m afraid it’s going without me—I can’t seem to keep up). And when I grow lonesome for the other half, he’s only as far away as the cell phone or the intercom. He visits me, too, and we laugh and flirt some and are glad to see each other. It’s the very best kind of escape.