Right now, I'm sitting on my back porch swing, sipping a beer. Sitting only inches from the jasmine, and I cna still smell fragrant garden incense burning, citronella candles, and "...ain't got no woooories, 'cuz I ain't in no hurry..." is playing through the sreen door.

Every once in a while I hear a heavy buzzing, but it's not a bumble bee. It's a hummingbird coming to feed. Me, I wish it was a bee, because it would be pollinating the zucchini and cucumber plants growing in the garden. Don't get me wrong, I totally see the benefits of city life. I can walk to my local grocer and some million-dollar homes in the same outing; but I crave something quieter.

One day, I'm going to have enough dough saved up that I'll be able to buy a small farmhouse on two or so acres in northern Georgia or Arkansas - yeah, the middle of nowhere. And I'll be able to sip a beer on my back porch, listening to a few rows of zucchini, some cukes, 'maters, push sprouts through the black wet dirt. Fuck this working for a living bullshit. I've never understood it, and I never will. Work sucks. I dare you to try and argue the point.