I’m on vacation this week. I think this is Monday, but I could be wrong. I’m not really worried about the actual day, but it is interesting that one of the consistent things about vacation is that I lose track of time. Traditionally, time is marked by standing meetings, lunch dates, knit night, errands to run and parental duties to deliver people where they should be at the proper when. However, I’ve temporarily escaped to the warmth of Florida. In a new location, I’ve been removed from these work and familial obligations and, for a change, I’m on my own. On my own to lounge in the mornings on the balcony, when the sun hasn’t reached full force and I haven’t had enough coffee to wander far from the villa. Not ready to choose between beach or pool, I’m left to my own devices. Do I knit? Do I blog? Do I read? Do I care?