An island of one’s own.

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Photo by Daniil Vnoutchkov on Unsplash

I read a blog by a better writer than I. Jon Scott wrote a humorous blog about wanting to buy an island, making it look easy (not getting an island, but writing so well about his desire for an island). And for some reason, this topic of buying your own island stayed with me throughout the rest of the day.

Apparently, getting my own island would be an outrageously difficult, logistically speaking, undertaking for me. First of all, it seems I am very picky about my island. These are my requirements for my own little island paradise:

I require a hidden place, but one with an easy yet secret access. I want all the solitude, but I am really too lazy to work for it. Solitude usually means remoteness. So, I am thinking of an island behind something like a larger island, or a thick forest wall of trees — from all sides. I was also thinking, like for Dr. Joel Fleishman on the TV show Northern Exposure, there would be a simple parting of the thickness of bushes and I would be able to walk into Manhattan (and back out, of course). This way, I can immediately be alone, unless I immediately want some company.

We live in “civilized” times. For me, that means indoor plumbing. I’m not into roughing it. Ever. The bear may shit in the woods, but I will not. Enough said.

The climate would have to be not too humid, not too hot, but with loads of rain. Something like the climate of Ireland or the Pacific Northwest in the United States would be ideal. I don’t need tropical heat, though. Keep your giant flying bugs away from me. And please, nothing poisonous on my island. I will trade exotic species for the everyday safety of non-poisonous spiders, garter snakes, earthworms, birds and honeybees. Any wildlife that will not kill me can co-exist in peace with me.

I do need a way to communicate with the outside world. I don’t need the Internet (except to post my blogs and to read others’ blogs), but I do need a satellite phone and the ability to charge my Nook (yes, my phone, as well, because I also have a ludicrously large number of books on my phone, too). I might also have a need to get new books, … but I suppose that’s really less of a “need” and more of a “want.”

Food. I don’t care for fish, but I love sushi, and Mexican food (I love most ethnic foods, with the exception of Korean food. (Dear Kim Jong Un, It’s not personal, I just find most dishes too sweet). So, what I am saying is my private island would need to have access to restaurant delivery. Delivery by drone would be preferable.

There you have it — I want an island with all the comforts (and luxuries) of home, but away from home. I want to be isolated, but with easy access to company and society. I like this pondering of my own private island. And while I’m on this roll of dreaming about fantasy stuff, I’d also like to find a purse that gives out unlimited amount of $20 bills, one at a time, and never runs out.

Written by

Writer and storyteller, immigrant, wife, mom, knitter, collector of jokes, lover of cheap, sweet wine.

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