The country did not suit, I collect?

No, Sir. Not at all. Yet I had set great store by it when I was in (Job City), distracted by a hundred trifles, and by daily cares, with hardly two hours I could call my own until late in the evening, when I was good for nothing; and it seemed to me that nowhere could country peace and quiet reach a higher point than in (Sand Rock), a remote settlement in (the north), with no post, no newspapers, no untimely visitors.

–Patrick O’brian, The Nutmeg of Consolation, sorta

The problem of the author who is speaking in dialogue speaks to me, but mostly as a reminder that the environment per se is never the root cause of the writer’s trouble.

Even in this postless place, with money enough to cover the very basics for the very short term, I found myself thinking: Christ I don’t have time for a job.

Which is fine, but like the author implies, things like shedbuilding and addressing addictions have a way of expanding to fill time and space, crowding out things that matter more, and just as effectively as a stupid day job can.

This is a battle in a war that can never be decisively and finally won.