It has come to my attention more and more often why I cannot and probably should not live in an urban setting. This correlates perfectly with the house search A and I are on–which lately has become a search for a little piece of rural wonderland for us to call our very own.
While I have lived out in the country, or in a rural community my entire life, A has lived in Los Angeles and in one of the largest cities on New Zealand’s north island. So for me to want to live in a small town, it’s not a big deal–but for him, it’s a lifestyle change.
We have been researching the advantages and disadvantages of rural life … septic systems, no need for pants, lack of pizza buffets across the street, … and daydream about having a quiet place where the Beef can roam free. It is an exciting prospect for us to have some space to call our own, after almost two years in the midget-closet-disintegrating-mayhem apartment that we currently call home.
Not only is the idea of a quiet, spacious home a nice idea, it also may be a necessity because of some of the downright stupid habits I have cultivated in my young life that would make living in a larger area a super efficient way to get me on Dateline.
- Whenever someone asks me where I live, I practically drive them to my home and point out my bedroom window. COME AND GET IT.
- Whenever I am practicing my rights as a pedestrian, and someone honks, I immediately assume I know that person, and I spin around to smile and wave at the road-rager.
- Leaving my car running when it’s cold is a must.
- When I’m walking the dog outside, I will talk to ANYONE. Adorable, polite children? Of course. Granny in her windpants out speed-walking? Anytime. Grizzled wolf-man skulking around, potentially with a hook-hand? Sounds like a model citizen … conversation ENGAGE.
- And now, a story: A few weeks ago, I was leaving work late and saw a lady in a skirt standing by the railroad crossing, watching a train go by. She was visibly shivering in the sharp wind. I knew this train was going to take a long time, so I approached this lady and offered to drive her where she needed to go. Thankfully, I had met her a week earlier at a volunteer event, but ANY SANE PERSON would not have offered because of the very realistic fear that people have knives sometimes … something I did not think about until much, much later.
Wish us luck as we look at a few houses on Sunday! Because if these don’t work out, we may just move into a shipping container underground–which has been discussed for YEARS I’M NOT EVEN KIDDING.