...and it has nothing to do with politics or racial equality.
Here it is:
We have a lovely hobby farm in Wisconsin, with a big flower garden, and a vegetable garden, and a dog. Mike has a pole barn (of course) and I get the old barn. In it, I have all of my crafts and hobbies. I have installed big skylights, so the sun can shine down on my worktables. Here I can sew, or paper craft, or curl up in a big comfy chair and knit. There is a loom for weaving, and big old shelves for my yarn. I have a whole area for beading, and sturdy old shelves full of every kind of fabric, and glass jars full of beads and baubles and ribbon.
I have craft camps for my friends in the barn. I fix them a wonderful lunch in my giant country kitchen, that has deep sinks and two ovens and big windows overlooking my garden. We eat it out on my giant wraparound porch, that is filled with old wicker and quilts and plants of every kind.
At the end of our lovely day of crafting and dining, they stay in my guest rooms that are full of moonlight and down comforters and fluffy towels, and there are homemade chocolates left on their pillows.
In the morning, we eat a scrumptious breakfast, and linger over coffee on the porch, then take a long walk through the countryside.
As you may note, there are no simulators or accounting mentioned at all in this dream sequence.
I am only 46 - I may get there yet! Dream with me, won't you? Because of course, you will be invited.