Four years, two months, ten days. That’s how long I’ve lived in the boonies. And hopefully I won’t have to count the days much longer. I met with a realtor today to list the house. Rural life hasn’t worked out. I need to get back to the city.
I suppose things might have been different if I didn’t have a ferry to govern my trips to the city (and my friends’ visits to see me). I don’t mind driving distances, but I like to have control in when I travel. Being dependent of the ferry schedule broke me.
Of course, it was more than that. I’m simply not a country boy. Folks I met here avoid going to
I tried Internet dating, but guys were quick to press Delete (and maybe a blocking mechanism) when I explained where I lived. I even went to a couple of gay/lesbian events here. Typically, I was the only single guy amongst a horde of women and a handful of coupled senior men. People were nice, but I couldn’t find a connection.
Moving is always stressful. I’ve moved eighteen times since university so it shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it is. The angst heightens in the middle of the night, leaving me with raccoon eyes that are becoming more and more dramatic. What if the house doesn’t sell? What will I ever be able to afford in the
Breathe. One step at a time. The sign goes up Monday. Fingers crossed for a quick sale.