Best of Both Worlds
I've been a part-time city dweller for about 5 months now, and I gotta say, except for the driving back and forth, it's pretty much the best of both worlds. When I'm in Cincinnati I spend my days working in coffee shops, meeting my friend on the corner to walk to the gym, taking Clyde to the dog park, playing trivia at our regular weekly spot. It's easier to be social in Cincinnati, especially for our normally not-so-social selves. We have a group of friends there with whom there's no pressure to be polite or pleasant if you don't feel like it. Hanging out or getting dinner isn't a big deal because you can just walk a couple blocks from your apartment or stop by somewhere after work – it doesn't mean taking up your whole evening. And the city throws interesting things my way almost every time I step out on the streets – two little girls on Orchard Street screaming an unharmonious version of the "Doe, a deer" song from The Sound of Music, a homeless-looking man on Vine Street telling the business man next to him that he's a poet and this corner is his stage, a discarded half of a pizza lying on a window sill, eaten up to about 2 inches from the crust. Sometimes the city makes you feel nervous, sometimes confident, sometimes excited, sometimes like saying "WTF?" It's an energizing mix.
But then I also get to go home, where it's quiet and comfortable, and there are no people I have to be pleasant to when I walk outside. There's a sunny backyard, flowers coming up already, wide expanses of grass that are just mine. Family and friends to see, familiar places to go, pictures to hang, laundry to do. I can let Clyde out to survey his domain for as long as he wants. I can put my mail in the mailbox at the end of my driveway instead of hunting down blue public mailboxes across the city where the pickup is before noon (why are they all 4pm??). I can sit and get work done without being distracted. I have an oven that's an actual oven, just some weird microwave convection oven. It's home. Stepping inside is always a little bit of a relief, a big sigh of happiness.
So I don't mind the going back and forth right now. I'm getting both the excitement of the city and the comfort of home each week. Now if I could just somehow make a bestselling novel pop out of my head.
But then I also get to go home, where it's quiet and comfortable, and there are no people I have to be pleasant to when I walk outside. There's a sunny backyard, flowers coming up already, wide expanses of grass that are just mine. Family and friends to see, familiar places to go, pictures to hang, laundry to do. I can let Clyde out to survey his domain for as long as he wants. I can put my mail in the mailbox at the end of my driveway instead of hunting down blue public mailboxes across the city where the pickup is before noon (why are they all 4pm??). I can sit and get work done without being distracted. I have an oven that's an actual oven, just some weird microwave convection oven. It's home. Stepping inside is always a little bit of a relief, a big sigh of happiness.
So I don't mind the going back and forth right now. I'm getting both the excitement of the city and the comfort of home each week. Now if I could just somehow make a bestselling novel pop out of my head.