I know small town life is not for everyone. My boss, for instance, has lived just outside Boston his entire life. I like to tell him things like, “I’m usually home from the preschool pickup run by then, but there was a cow on the road, and some of us stopped to herd it back into the field,” just to watch him break out in hives. (I made that one up, though it could happen. I can’t think of any of the specific things I’ve told him lately.)
Despite the danger of animals on the road and the irritation of trains stopped interminably over the back road crossings, I like it out here. I was reminded of that today when I went to vote. I lived in Indianapolis for a time, and when I voted there, I stood in line for 30-60 minutes every time. That’s just time standing in line, not the actual voting or getting there and back. I checked my time on leaving and arriving back at the house when I went to vote. Door-to-door, I came in at less than 45 minutes. That’s WITH the 20-minute walk I decided to take because I was right by the trail and it’s a gorgeous morning. I’ll have to work a little longer this afternoon, but I got to be outside instead of in the basement on the exercise bike. Win!
I admit that I do have doubts twice a year or so when everybody empties their manure pits onto the fields. And I wish there was an Ethiopian restaurant less than an hour’s drive away.
But still, I guess I’ll stay.