I'm feeling a bit groggy for having slept so late on this beautiful summer's day. Hair askew, in need of a shave, I slip into a bathrobe and head downstairs. Nettie reminds me to take my daily medication. Nettie keeps the home running. Not feeling particularly hungry, an unfinished jigsaw puzzle beckons me. Before long my gaze wonders from the myriad little oddly shaped pieces to the partially open window. Perched on an expanse of manicured lawn sit five Adirondack rocking chairs. Soothing sounds emanate from the nearby waterfall, beneath which fish swim in near hypnotic circular fashion. The irrigation system covers the scene in a fine mist. The home is calm, secluded. It reminds me of something, something my mind can't place its finger on.

It's not until the tree care workers come looking for me, dressed in their company issued white windbreakers do the tumblers click over and a voice inside my head screams, "This home, the home, it's a sanatorium of your own creation!!!


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