A Year Free and Clear

I know I’m in need of some serious R&R when my biggest fantasy, currently, involves sleep. I wake up in a humongous bed, by myself, in a castle setting reminiscent of how I envisioned Tolkien’s Rivendell. The room I wake in is spacious, shuttered windows opened, allowing the cool, crisp autumn breeze sweep gently though. There’s absolute silence save for the whispering of the distant trees. The sun is rising, and the sky is pure azure. I sit up, stretch, fully refreshed, feeling clean, healthy, hydrated, and full, after having slept possibly sixty or seventy hours straight.

Yesterday another fantasy crept into my mind. Imagine this scenario: you’re driving down a deserted highway at night, and see some headlights up ahead. Slowing down, a little nervous, you come upon a car that’s run off the road – it’s flipped upside down and there’s smoke coming from the engine compartment. Pulling over, you leap out, cautiously but quickly approach the overturned vehicle and spot a body inside. An old man, unconscious but breathing, seemingly unhurt. You pull him out, call 9-1-1 on your cell. A half-hour later emergency vehicles arrive at the scene, though not before the gas tank explodes in a curling orange ball of flame.

Turns out the old man is a millionaire, many times over, making his fortune in the 1970s on Wall Street, investing in and getting out of the dot com boom before it burst, and is now living out here away from civilization in blessed retirement. He’s diabetic, and passed out while driving, and inadvertently drove off the road. Anyway, to thank you, even though you protest you don’t want any reward, he offers you this proposition:

He will pay you your current salary for twelve months, one weekly check at a time. Maybe a ten percent Good Samaritan raise thrown in (heh-heh). After that, no more. That’s it. So, in effect, you get paid for your current job but you don’t have to show up to do anything.

Now, what would you do with your one year, free and clear?

Bills will still have to be paid timely. The wife will still have to work; the kids will still have to go to daycare or school and whatnot. But you – YOU! – have total freedom in this little fantasy.

You know what I would do?

1. I’d quit my job via a phone call. Maybe I’d work a day or two if they want me to train a replacement. Paid, of course. But only a day or two.

2. Then, I’d do absolutely nothing for a week. Sleep, rest, remain horizontal. Yes, I’d continue with my chores and duties at home and with the house, mow the lawn, drop my daughter off at day care, grocery shopping, etc. But from 8 to 5, Monday through Friday, I’d devote exclusively to eliminating my massive sleep debt.

3. I would decide to read two hours a day – one in the morning, one in the afternoon. The morning sessions, since I’d be more refreshed to concentrate, I would devour my stack of philosophy and theology. Maybe interspersing a physics book here and there. In the afternoon, when I’d be somewhat drowsy, I’d cull my way through the twenty-five or thirty science fiction paperbacks I have on deck. This way, I’d get my reading done, feed my literary addiction, and have plenty of time in the evening for my wife and child(ren).

4. I’d start feeling real guilty if I didn’t produce anything of value. I’d take two or three weeks and branch out from this blog. Create two or three others, with the intention of making some money off it (at least to cover expenses). This blog was created to get me back into the habit of daily writing, and it’s been successful at that. So, I’d want to expand my skills and experience in the online arena, and tackle other challenges.

5. During those same two or three weeks I’d work on a larger writing plan. I have two novels on deck, each about a third fleshed out and neither with a loose outline. I’d finish that part of the work, then decide which novel to focus on writing during the year. And then I’d write it. Probably’ll do the blogs in the morning and the novel in the afternoon. Or reverse. I’d have to experiment.

6. Oh, forgot. I would still have two or three hours free a day this year. So I would get myself back in the habit of daily exercise. I think I’d start with weights on Monday and Thursday, then a half-hour of cardio Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. But I would vary the routine periodically to keep it interesting.

7. Just for kicks I’d surf the web for an hour a day (the old man’ll pay for an upgrade in my connection, of course). Keep myself in tune and up to date in search of weirdities and such.

8. Maybe I’d institute a rule that if it rains, I get to take the afternoon off and watch a classic SF movie, or some oldie but goodie like what you’d find on TCM.

9. How to keep this going past a year? For starters, I’d send out my two completed novels and see if I can get any nibbles from publishers. Maybe I’d use the short stories as bait, too. Probably around nine or ten months I’d have to fish around for something to do to earn some real dough, though this, I will promise myself, will be unlike anything I’ve done in the past. For one thing, it will be work I will love.

10. What else? Yes! I’d get to see my daughter’s plays and recitals without nagging and disapproving looks from my masters at work. I’d be able to help my wife and take a turn bringing sick children to the doctors. Perhaps, if I was feeling really ambitious, I’d learn to cook, and have delicious meals hot-n-ready at 6 pm when everyone got home!


I could go on, but hey – you know what? I think I just described my Ideal Life! Wow! Now, to find an unconscious old millionaire to rescue …