Though it is not my usual posture, I have had an overwhelming desire to retreat lately—maybe, even to hide. I have been running scenarios through my head for months. I come across enough money to quit working the 8-5 job. I tell my lady mutts, Delilah and Sugar, to hop in the back of the car, and we find some town secluded in the mountains, where we go into tiny local grocery and hardware stores and, for at least a few months, we are just strangers renting the Smith house at the end of a drive named after a woodland bird. Well, that’s not entirely true. I skipped a part. Before the girls and I get in that car, I arrange for someone to take care of my house, because even in my fantasy world I lean towards practicality. I will want somewhere and something to come back to, even if I don’t come back.