Simpl●City Defined

Some days, I nurture a vision of a simpler life. You’ve had those days — someone cuts in front of you at the store, the dick behind you on the highway is in way too much of a hurry, the server crashes just as you are trying to finish a certain really imperative project on your last day before a long weekend. The vision is simplicity itself: some remote acreage with a sparsely furnished old house, a workshop and a vast garden. Not too far from town, but a long, long way from the city. A small laptop. A pair of jeans and a sweatshirt for each day of the week. A local farmer’s market. Writing, painting and sewing in the winter. Writing, painting and gardening in the summer. Sustainable living on every level – no city traffic, no office politics, no keeping up with the Joneses. Minimize my ecological footprint. That’s the vision on those days.

On other days, when I’ve had a giggle over a pint, or a lively conversation at work, or I’ve just been to see an old friend in a play, that vision just doesn’t have the same allure. Certain details are different. My hair is gray. The acreage has loads of weeds. Instead of jeans, I’m wearing sweat pants. And my back is killing me.

Let’s face it, the wholesome country life just doesn’t quite jive with my personality. As much as the crowds of the city drive me mad, I love the diversity. The morning and evening commutes can be harrowing, but they’re also my twice daily opportunity to be alone with my thoughts. My house is small, but I can clean it in an hour (as long as I’m really focussed). My teeny garden is surrounded by tall fences, but it has flowers, herbs and vegetables, plus a chicken coop, a pond and a mural of the forest.

I live in Simpl●City.