One of the best things about being 1,800 miles from Chicago with minimal internet access is that you get removed from the spasmodic reactions of the Chicago fans on websites and the talk radio hosts that stoke the communal angst. Certainly there have to be fans on the ledge because the Cubs still haven't upgraded their team since the end of the 2009 season.

How many teeth were ground to dust over the Matt Capps to the Nationals signing?

How many gigs of message board space were filled with bitching that Curtis Granderson isn't a Cub? Same with Marlon Byrd. And even Reed Johnson, for that matter.

How much moaning is going on over the expected upcoming thrashing that the fans are expecting the Vikings to lay on the Bears and lame duck coach Lovie Smith (if he's not gone in 2 weeks, he's gone in 54 weeks)?

In the Decade of the Ought's, we as a society have come to expect instant gratification, no matter if that makes any sense or not. We all live on Internet Time. Even microwave ovens are sluggish for us.

How peaceful it is to be away from all this and be able to wear short sleeves, no jacket, and avoid e-mails.

Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate. I'll bet you wish you were where I am, even if you don't realize it.