Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived In That House - Plot & Excerpts
It was a narrative, not a viable lifestyle option. I believed the reason I gasped in delight whenever I happened upon an episode on TV was that it transported me to a rural idyll that was intriguing in theory but that I would surely hate in real life. In other words, I was never going there. I was just going to watch. It’s odd, then, that in my twenties, despite my devotion to urbanity, I often found myself wrestling with a curiosity about country living that seemed strangely akin to a homophobic person “struggling with same-sex attraction.” As much as I wanted to be a creature of the city, as much as I’d organized my entire life around the overpriced, undersized vagaries of Manhattan living, I sometimes found myself wanting desperately to live on a farm, or at least near one. I can’t explain this by way of any rational desire; indeed, it was almost purely visceral. I wanted to smell the countryside, to hear it. I wanted to live someplace where the evenings were punctuated by the sound of a wooden screen door slamming shut.
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