I’m spending a week in Madrid this fall. I should be figuring out what to pack, who’s going to watch the house, and how to say a few essential phrases with a Castilian accent. But am I doing that? Of course not. Instead, I’m worrying if it would somehow be wrong to write every day when I’m visiting a place that was near the top of my Bucket List, and if it’s safe to bring my laptop.*

*No offense, Madrid. I worry about that everywhere, because my soul is lodged squarely between the space bar and the command key.