Thursday, December 08, 2005

It's Official: I Hate the Country

With up to six more inches of snow, I don't know if I'm going to make it back home tonight, and if I do there's no guarantee I can get out again. (I substituted "back home" for "in" after reading that last sentence. But I thought I'd reference it for those who can't live without the double entendre. There's a joke in there someplace.)

I've got a friend who's supposed to meet me around five to try to work the snowblower, but I can't get ahold of the ex to ensure a) it's still in the basement, and b) it's in working condition. It damn well better be, the thing cost four hundred dollars three years ago. I am hoping that it all works out and Tom can show me how to run the freaking thing so I'm not quite so helpless.

Did I mention that I hate it there?

Did I ask if anyone wants to buy a house in the country?

Must be able to chop trees, mow freaking enormous amounts of grass, combat snow and deal with any forms of wildlife that attempt to infiltrate the house and yard - over the past ten years it's been primarily wasps and those damn ladybug thingies, but I've also contended with mice, bats, deer, turkeys (did you know they can fly?), over-friendly neighborhood dogs and cats, raccoons, frogs, snakes, and once there was a bear nearby, or so the paper said. I kid you not.

I'm not a country girl. I don't want to be a country girl.

Hey, at least I don't freak out a la Carrie Bradshaw over a squirrel (though I love the line about them being rats with better clothes). I don't even really flip out when the odd mouse comes in - except the time the cat left a bloody mouse leg sitting in the middle of the living room. Yep, just a leg. And I mean bloody in the literal sense, not the English thing. I don't know what happened to the rest of the mouse. It's the skull that puzzles me. You eat the skull, but the leg was just a little too much for you??? What's up with that? Bats, on the other hand, are way too freaky for words. What sick, twisted mind devised a creature with the creepiness factor of a mouse and wings so it can divebomb you and get caught in your hair? Oh, and did I mention snakes? Yep, you can be trying to plant a bit of flowers in your backyard, lean back to see what it looks like, and there's this creepy snake RIGHT THERE. I've learned that some kinds of garden snakes do have the colors yellow, red and black in them, only in a pretty diamond-type pattern. I wouldn't let my dog out for three days until I identified it. Bastard.

I'm not saying it doesn't have it's points. The woods are pretty, and I'm told the fish in the pond are huge. I love the sound a wood lark makes. I can see tons of stars right off my back deck, more than I've ever seen except out in the middle of the wilderness on camping trips. It is cool to be able to pick your own raspberries, mulberries and . . . . some other berry whose name I don't know but is good and the neighbor said it makes a great pie. Gooseberry??? I've never seen the point of the hickory nuts, though. So much work for so little. The fireplace is nice, and it's so quiet at night. I've seen birds I didn't know existed: did you know Iowa has bluebirds? The real thing, red breast and all. And some other bright blue thingy called an Indigo Bunting, and a black/white/red bird called a Grosbeak. And what's with those huge-ass lunar moths that come up and hang on your windows for, like, three days? I mean, these suckers are five inches at least.

At the same time, I feel like the jungle is threatening to breach the walls at any minute and I'm not a very handy person. I can't even change the lightbulb on the basement stairs: I'm too short and no ladder can fit safely on the stairwell - the ex was 6'6" and I think he forgot to take height into account when he placed the fixture. And guess what? In the country, there's nobody to call. No landlord. No taxi. No delivery service. Nada. Basically, I don't mind country if I've got someone who can deal with the wildlife. But I'll never again voluntarily live there alone. I can't even get flippin' cable, and any stores within a 20 mile radius close by, like, 10:00. What is this, the third world? And don't be trying to sell me on some Norman Rockwell tableau, either. Those people would never be hanging out, just sitting on the front porch. If they tried, the wasps would dive bomb them looking for a nest, a spider would land in their hair, and a bat would swoop down to eat it and get tangled.


Last weekend I discovered the Lakeview/Wrigleyville neighborhood in Chicago. Oh, I am sooooooo loving it. The shops, the buildings, the people, it is a seriously great place. I am sooo missing the city.


Odd side note: Just so you know, the spell check on this post politely suggested I replace the word "lightbulb" with "lustfully."


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