I am in need of a beach.
I'm not particular. Whether it fronts a lake or an ocean, a cove or a bay, whether the land is made up of pure white crystals or dirty river sand, I care not. All I need is the voice of the water, the music of the breeze, and a temperature above fifty degrees.
Throw in a deck with a cushioned chaise lounge, a soft pillow and a blanket for chillier days and it would be just about perfect.
I can almost picture it as I sit beneath my quilt tonight in the recliner. I'm actually thinking about turning the faucet on in the kitchen and setting up the box fan to blow in my face as I relax with eyes closed, imagining that restful scene that's just out of my reach.
Somehow I don't think it would be quite the same.
Things have been particularly hectic at work lately. That, coupled with too little sleep, led me to dream of cruises and beach bunglows and other fairy stories. It's especially painful when I consider the fact that last year at this time we were getting ready to go on a cruise. If only we could afford such luxuries every year!