In the Napa Valley. I've been driving down to work the day before I start a string of work days because, well, frankly, I get too tired when I don't. Driving down the day of my shift 3 1/2 hours and then working an 8 hour shift just got too long of a day for me. I guess that might be part of being fifty years old.
And so I take my time and enjoy the drive. I drove down even earlier than normal today because there is lots of rain. Quite stormy. I wanted to drive during daylight hours. That's another thing about being fifty years of age: I don't see as well at night (and during rain storms) anymore.
I saw a herd of elk today.
It is quiet in this room at the hospital. I guess another thing about being fifty is that you don't mind having quiet times. Out of the hubbub of house and hearth and two really loud pre-teens playing their music that sounds like 27 trash cans full of snarling cats being dropped from two hundred feet onto a cement floor and, well, you get the story. Especially if you are fifty or above.
It is quiet here. I listen to the rain. I have a beer. All is well.