Ostensibly I moved to the country for a simpler life.
I sort of found it.
Many of the things that aren’t actually important don’t matter out here. But I’m not sure that’s the only “simpler” I was looking for.
I wanted a different focus of work; I wanted fewer things to focus on or get distracted by.
I wanted to spend my time doing things that mattered. Or things that I seem important.
I wanted fewer neighbors and closer friends.
I don’t think I got any of that with this move.
In a few ways, life is much more complicated.
I feel obligated to help more people with their things in order to be a good neighbor, which inherently means fewer of my things get done.
At least right now. Potentially, it means more things may get done because I might get more help later.
But I don’t think I actually got simpler. I got different.
The selfish part of me–what tends to rule most of most days–is pretty unhappy about this.
Unlike most people, I don’t need much social interaction to survive. My best months were months I lived alone and talked with people only when I wanted to.
There’s more going through my head, but that’s about where the conclusions end.