Some days all I want is to live and work on a farm in a sunny place with people I like and just till fields all day and then take afternoon naps and swim in rivers and eat porridge and sit around playing cards by the woodburning stove in the evenings. Ignore for a moment the juxtaposition of me doing manual labor and instead focus on the quaintness of that sort of life.

Or, I suppose a pretty close analogue is to spend my time working a pretty meaningless job on a train with people I like in a place I love.

But this sort of lifestyle seems appealing for a few months, and then its time to actually accomplish something.