So, I’ll admit it.
I glamourized the country life just a little bit in my head. I am having a great time out here, I love it. I love walking through the soybean fields, seeing the new plants poke up from the wheat that was harvested last month. I love the solitude. The old house I’m staying is like a grandiose time warp, the calendar in the kitchen is dated August, 1963. I can be as loud as I want. I love the fact that I am reposing in a part of the country that’s so unique and that few people ever get to know about. But . . . there are a few shortcomings to country life that I hadn’t thought of til I got out here.
Fuel Dependency is a big issue. You pretty much have to have a car to leave the property. I thought I’d be able to walk to town and putter around. Town is only a few miles away, but the main problem I have with using my ambulatory abilities is that every neighbor has at least one mean farm dog. I get to the end of the lane and they are already barking and tearing across the nearby property, heading my way. I carry a tobacco stick for protection, but I don’t want to take on three strange dogs by myself.
And oddly enough, safety is a bit of a concern. Not a worry, so much, but a concern. I was walking through one of the fields the other day, when I noticed a car coming down the road. Whoever was in the car saw me and then slowed waaay down. I didn’t like that. Also, I’m not the kind of person who is intimidated by going anywhere by myself, but I can honestly say that around here, I feel safer when not alone. There are alot of drunk, obnoxious men with an air of lawlessness in their eyes who don’t know how to act when they see a hippie girl in flowery dress and floppy hat who is obviously not from around here. (Whoa, just wait til I roller skate the square in Adairville.)
A friend asked me today what happens when the newness of living in Tenn-Tucky wears off and we all stop having a good time. And honestly, that’s part of the reason why we’re all leaving when it gets cold. It’ll be time to move on. And I’ve been meeting alot of locals around here who very much feel stuck. They regard us as novelties – as much as we regard them in the same way. So, this is a great adventure for me, but this place is a bit like summer camp as I know it will have an end. And that makes any short-comings bearable.
I’m eating tons of bacon and drinking PBR daily, so when you get right down to it all of my complaints about country life have to do with my magical expanding ass coupled with a lack of viable exercise. I might have to (gasp!) start doing yoga or some such shit. Sigh. I suppose them’s the brakes. Bacon is worth it. So is beer.