The Land of Liquid Time is a beautiful place.  Alarm clocks don't work there.  Deadlines are forbidden.  You sit, you walk, explore, meditate, delve, vegetate, see old friends, meet new people, get involved in your community, read a book, go to a museum, go to a movie, go to to a restaurant, go nowhere, ignore the outside world and indulge in the full expression of "Me Time."

More than a vacation, never a vocation.  The Land of Liquid Time beckons all to lay aside responsibilities and see yourself anew.

In mid-March this year I landed in the Land of Liquid Time after the big, big company booted my job out of existence.  Falling on the mental silk pillow of "Thank God I'm Out of There," I gingerly slipped off the pillow to find myself having nothing that really needed to be done immediately.  Yes, searching for a new job pressed on the borders of my liquid time like a heathen horde ready to ransack my newly won homestead.

The horde would be acknowledged.  But not now.  Not yet.  Besides I had severance checks coming.

I let my mind create a free-floating, malleable list of things I may or may not feel like doing or not doing while -- let's call it what it is -- unemployed.  I allowed myself one curse of the cosmos for not having me be born independently wealthy.  [I've cursed the cosmos so often for this greatest of universal injustices.  I keep cursing.  The cosmos keeps laughing at me.]

In a stroke of fortune (The cosmos throwing me a bone.  I am a dog to the cosmos.), I started a new job as my severance ran out.  The new employer is not a big, big company.  Thank goodness.  For its service industry and location (Chicago), it's considered a mid-sized company.  For the first time in years, I have an office with a door.

So, some three weeks ago, the harsh glare of reality burned my lush Land of Liquid Time to a crisp.  Again, my alarm breaks my companionship with Morpheus at an ungodly time.  I sit under fluorescent lights during the day.  So very many people to whom I have to say "yes."

I look on my little list.  My little reminder of more carefree days -- outside of the unemployment thing.  Of the things I did or didn't do or almost tried to do.  My short journey in the Land of Liquid Time.

• I didn't lose that 30 pounds, which would've put me closer to my fighting weight as if I ever had a fighting weight.
• My innate night owl cycle took over so that I was usually awake at 3:00 A.M. and loving it.
• Rearranging the bookshelves didn't happen.  Which is too bad, because they really need it.
• Accomplished a lot of cat petting.
• Failed to lose those 20 pounds that would've made my doctor happy with me.
• I traveled to the northern suburbs to have lunch with a good friend.  We sat at the table for three hours talking the afternoon away.
• I wouldn't call it a routine, but I became reacquainted with the treadmill.
• Nonetheless, I still didn't lose those first 10 pounds that would've made Ms. Stim happy.  Sorry, Ms. Stim.

In a programing note, beginning Tuesday night until some 10 days later, Ms. Stim and I will be elsewhere.  There's an off-chance you may learn about that elsewhere if HuffPost runs the interview it did with Ms. Stim on Friday.  If it runs, it'll be targeted for Memorial Day and talk about a memorial being dedicated to the crew of a B-17 that was shot down over occupied France during WWII.  Ms. Stim's father was a member of the crew.  He was rescued by the French Underground and escaped to England.

But that's another story.