Ah, the road . . .

I suspect that the younger version of myself would find this room intriguing and delightful . . . and perhaps a bit sad when he realized how some things came to be in it, and whose loss they would cost. It's a mess of a room -- bookshelves from a house of ill repute brought down by a family scandal, a china cabinet from the dining room of that beloved grandparent sanctuary from childhood, an end table that came directly from a dream, and every bit of it filled with Sherlock Holmes. Time makes wizards of us all and we build our sanctum sanctorums without even realizing the power we eventually give them.

Excuse me, I just watched the first episode of Neil Gaiman's Sandman brought to life, and I'm feeling a bit grandiose. The thing of it is, though, I am due to leave the room above and the rest of that new Netflix series to get in a car of a certain age and drive down some old familiar roads with some old familiar bookstores to a Sherlock Holmes event in Indiana, my state's sideways Canada, today.

And I am, as one would suspect of a nerdish, bookish, blogger and podcaster, not fond of leaving my home base and subjecting myself to the random possibilities of travel. T'were teleportation but possible, I would appear (and disappear at times) at so many places where Sherlock Holmes is celebrated. But without that ability, there is always the road. A full day to Minneapolis or Nashville, half for Chicago, St. Louis, or Indianapolis, more for a leisurely drive elsewhere, and, unlike some, I am all about the leisurely drive. An audio book to make the mile markers pass more quickly than three-per-song radio or playlist, and off I go.

But I do hate to leave, even at the most enticing of Sherlockian lures. This time, I mainly suspect I am going just because it's been three months without an event, and there is a certain random Sherlockian interaction one gets in person that can't be had on Zoom, where a single person can dominate a virtual room of thirty unplanned at times while you watch folks you would love to have a private conversation with sit bored. (Texting on the side can be amusing, but just not the same.)

Watching Sandman this morning, with it start as Dream is pulled away from his realm unwillingly, one can't help but consider how willing one is to leave their own realm and the reasons why.

The road awaits. Off I go to prepare.