Country Living: Don’t Let The Pretty Pictures Fool You
Updated: May 19
I used to dream of life in a remote mountain cabin. Rustic beauty at its best. Maybe some acreage in the country, like Green Acres (if you’re old enough to remember or watched it on TV Land).
Actually, Green Acres should have taught me important lessons. Wasn’t something always broken? The handyman practically lived there.
I didn’t intend to live in the country. I’m not even that far from town. Just far enough to be out of the service area for city water and sewer, natural gas, trash service, mail, and newspaper delivery. Amazon two day shipping usually takes four days, and sometimes Amazon refuses to ship items to my address. Sorry, this item can’t be shipped to your selected address.
When I told my real estate agent that I didn’t know what to do with a well and septic system. She said, “It works fine most of the time and when it doesn’t, you call someone.” Okay.
Instead of a little utility closet for a furnace and water heater, my home includes a large closet for those things plus a pump and water softener. Who knew a pump would be so large?
When we moved in, the propane tank had run completely dry, which meant ice cold showers. I could blame the previous owners, but I wouldn’t have known enough to check it. Now I know. The nice young men from Ortega’s Propane filled the tank.
On a side note, times have changed in an important way. The propane guy bent over to light the pilot light and no plumber’s crack. A sleek black garment covered the spot where a crack would normally be, like long underwear or something. Whoever invented this garment deserves my undying gratitude.
But, I digress.
Our well sits in the front yard. Not a cute fairy tale wishing well. It’s just a cement slab with a spigot on top. Someone tried to make it fancy with an arch and planters on the sides. But the plants are long since dead and the arch needs to be refinished.
Rumor has it our private road doesn’t have room for garbage trucks to turn around. Good thing we have an old pick-up to take the trash to the transfer dump. The guys there are very helpful, but their comments about the trash can be awkward.
“Looks like someone got a new TV.”
And, “This item is still good. I’ll just keep it.”
I tried to set up newspaper delivery twice. No paper. If they left it somewhere, I don’t know where they hid it. Maybe a roadrunner took it.
I have to drive into town for mail. So, I’ve decided I don’t need to pick up the mail every day. Anything that’s time sensitive comes via e-mail. Who cares about snail mail?
On the plus side, if I get some solar panels and a battery bank, I can go off grid. We could probably dig a bunker without anyone noticing. Country living brings out all of my prepper tendencies.
Bring on the zombie apocalypse.