Ok seriously. For the last time, I live in the country, not in the “sticks”. You city folk just don’t really seem to understand the concept of country living.

When you walk three blocks from your house in the city, you will be in another neighborhood (with a high chance of being lost). For us to walk the same distance, we will most likely be approaching our next-door neighbor’s front door. Speaking of neighbors, ours are no trouble at all. Sure they play heavy metal, blow-your-brains-out music all night, but thankfully the birds, coyotes and crickets drown out everything else.

Unlike you city folk we don’t need street lights – we have stars thank you very much. And sorry, no, I’m not going to explain to you what stars are.

… sure I’ll mow the lawn. I rather enjoy the smell of freshly cut weeds. Perhaps remind me sometime next week? It is possible to walk on the lawn, but until then we can walk in the lawn.

Every Wednesday morning I go for an extremely laborious hike. I tie up my laces and grab hold of two – sometimes three! – heavy bags. Then I walk. And walk. And walk. At long last when I feel as if I could carry the bags no longer I reach the end of the driveway. Wednesday is garbage day.

It’s slightly bothersome how the half-mile toboggan course that serves as a driveway is not negotiable in the winter. But, what would life in the country be like without a half-mile hike each morning, through three foot of snow, to reach one's truck?

Out here in the country, we ride our mowers and push our brooms. In the city, we hear you do the reverse.

Don’t be shocked if you see a free-range skunk waddling across our front lawn on the way over there. I bought a dog to try and fix this problem. The skunk couldn’t stand the smell of the dog, and the dog couldn’t stand the pompous attitude of the skunk. I quickly learned to keep stocked up on tomato juice (for the dog’s daily bath), and the neighbors were known to comment unfavorably on that smelly pink dog.

You go to the grocery store to get your food. We don’t – we cut out the middle man. We pick our own raspberries out back. And in the front. And down the hill. And across the road over in the woods (and sometimes in the neighbors yard). We even grow our own apples! Our trees just might give fruit next year… hopefully. And when we are in the mood for chicken, we sit silently near the property line with an axe and wait for a stray bird to accidentally wander under the fence. Or you know, sometimes we drive into town for some Swiss Chalet.

The sad truth is the nearest grocery store is five miles away. But it takes me only 10 minutes to get there… which is how long it takes you to get out of your apartment parking lot.

We don’t worry too much about breathing in pollution seeing as there isn’t much of that around here. However, we do keep our mouths closed when mosquitoes are swarming.

We have mice. You have rats. Mice are cuter. Too bad they don’t eat mosquitoes…

Don’t get me wrong, the city is an awesome place for theater, soccer, and fancy restaurants that serve you itsy bitsy morsels on huge white plates with colorful splashes of different flavored sauces. But have you ever noticed how very few depictions of paradise include skyscrapers, traffic lights and hot dog vendors? Come join us in the countryside and you can enjoy paradise all to yourself… so long as you don’t mind sharing it with the chickens, the skunk, the mice and the mosquitoes (and don’t you dare ask me what stars are).