Welcome to Metropolis, Nevada, population zero.
Do you ever find it beneficial to put down the damn guitar and get out of the house?
Usually, my answer is “no” — I like hanging out in the studio, and am immensely grateful that I get to do something I love most days. But after a long stretch of over-work, I was hankering for a nice, long road trip, and decided to go on a photo safari of remote ghost town sites in Northern Nevada — something I’ve never done, and a serious change of venue for an effete urbanite like me.
The plan: explore by day and play with my mobile recording rig in the evening. Crank out a few posts on small audio interfaces and recording via GarageBand for iPad. So I tossed my Hello Kitty guitar into the back of my rented 4×4, figuring I could prop it in front of disintegrating shacks and abandoned mine shafts for maximum photo fun.
And then right before departure, I unpacked all the music stuff and left it behind in San Francisco. 
I just had a last-minute hunch that it might be beneficial to not play music, or even think about it, for a few days. I didn’t even listen to the radio much — just a couple of audiobooks. (Holy cow, I forgot how amazing Heart of Darkness is — and I only just realized that title of that great Gang of Four song “We Live As We Dream, Alone” is pilfered from Joseph Conrad.)
No Hello Kitty guitars here!
So now I’m back home — and while I can’t claim I’m bursting with magical inspiration, the guitar necks feel fresh in my hands, and think I’m a little more mindful about choosing and shaping notes — or at least more relaxed about the process.
Anyone have similar experiences? Instances when temporarily fleeing your musicianship improves, or at least refreshes, it?