More Exurban Angst

Went to storytime at the library this week (the first time I’ve dared to show my face at this event since last year when Henry knocked over a little girl with a cast on her leg trying to be the first kid to get a hand stamp from the library lady…) and ran into a woman I know from the playground. We’re not close or anything--I initially thought she was one of those smug SAHMs one sometimes encounters. But I’ve kind of come to appreciate her after a handful of conversations over the past year and a half.

Anyway, she and her husband have a relatively modest house on a chic little country road not far from Lovetown. They have apparently decided that they’re in over their heads and are walking away from their mortgage. They’re moving to a neighboring county on the other side of the mountains where the skies are blue and the necks are red. And the houses are cheap. She seemed upbeat, but I was kind of shaken. Had her pegged as a princess only to find that they’ve been scraping by on one teacher’s salary and just couldn’t take it anymore.

She also informed me that the fabulous 70 acre estate across the road from her (which I’ve often drooled over) is on the market (for over 5 mil). Rumor has it that the upstanding owners are splitting up.

I like to think I’ve got a fair amount to bitch about: a quirky old house, an intractable husband, the economic insecurity of the self-employed and so on. But this was one of those interludes that makes you think about how good you’ve got it. So, let me say (particularly in light of my last post) that I’m grateful for our decrepit (but cozy) farmhouse. Grateful for our wide open spaces and the often stunning view from the front porch. Grateful for my raucous but sustaining marriage. And, of course, ever so grateful that the powers that be have chosen to bestow our little podunk with DSL technology so I can blog a little and effortlessly facebook every day for 15 minutes during naptime.