Country Living

I live in the country which means there’s a lot of space between me and my neighbors. There’s good things about space and bad things. Just like everything.

Good thing: I no longer live behind the 75 year old man who swims naked at 7 a.m. Since my house sat up higher than his I could see right over the privacy fence if I was in my kitchen. Let’s just say I had impeccable timing when it came to opening the curtains while he was getting in the pool. Now if it was Matthew McConaughey that would be a different story. I’d still be city living if you get my drift.

Bad thing: The bus drops the kids off far away. My son: a quarter mile. And since i’m an over protective mother who watches too many episodes of Criminal Minds I’m convinced someone will drive up in a windowless van, slide open the side door without even stopping and yank him in, no one the wiser.

Not so bad, but annoying: I find myself yelling to my daughter when she get’s off the bus. There always seem to be something she needs to hear before she gets to me. Like: “hurry up it’s freezing out here.” or “there’s no mail today, don’t stop at the mailbox and hurry up because it’s freezing out here.” Obviously, I didn’t move to the south.

What else is good about country living? There are farm stands all over the place that let you buy fruit and vegetables on the honor system. I know, right? These country folk actually trust their neighbors to leave money in a lock box and take only what they paid for. Are they for real? And certainly not from where I grew up. No way. That box would be cut from the wood, money taken, and all the fruit with it. Robbers get hungry too. Okay, I’m exagerating a bit. Sometimes the creative writer just takes over. I didn’t grow up in the ‘hood. Not exactly.

I’ve gotten some pretty good tomatoes living in the country. On my honor.


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