Country Livin': Just Call Me Half-Pint

Ray overlooks the Indiana country-side. 

A giant slug inched across the floor at our country-ish Airbnb. I mentioned to Ray that country living could be fun.

 

His response, incredulous:

 

Oh, this is just the beginning.

 

Let’s talk about well water, septic systems and your poop being in a tank in the backyard. Frequent power outages because they’re busy fixing the power to people in the city. Inadequate fire and EMS. Snow plows hitting your mailbox and they keep going because they don’t bother to plow your street. Mowing six acres of grass!

 

If we moved to the country we would start smoking and listening to conservative talk radio.

 

We’d HAVE to have a dog outside on a chain. I’d have to start hunting again to get provisions because town is too far away to get provisions.

 

I’d start calling you Half-Pint. One of us would go blind!

 

You think this is hyperbole but it isn’t! I lived it for the first 18-years of my life!

Guess we aren't moving to the country.