Last year, to counteract the effects of working and living under the same roof, I started taking myself on a “fake commute” every morning — a 25 minute walk to work from my house back to my house. Same route every morning, same time. All that got shaken up when one part of my morning path (my favourite part, through the parking lot of an old monastery-turned-hotel) got blocked off by a new fence. It was such a shock to my system that it’s taken me four months to get back to my morning routine. I had to map out a whole new commute in a different direction. I still miss my old walk terribly. This one still needs some fine tuning (there’s a vey aggressive, barky dog tethered to a front step on my current route, and it takes half of the rest of the walk for my jangled nerves to recover), but it has potential.