Living in the Middle of Nowhere Means

Any trip to town takes all day, no matter when we start.

The weather at our destination is always different than at home. So, unless we bring a full wardrobe we’re usually boiling or freezing, or with island temperatures so changeable, a little of both.

Our best-laid plans for the day never work out exactly right.

We’re usually late to any destination because of me. I dawdle and try to remember what to bring in case of anything on earth that might happen. This is invariably done at the last possible minute while John paces.

I try to bring lists of what we intend to accomplish, but those always get lost somewhere in my handbag or shopping bags or some damn place.

I take my purses for a ride. They seem to enjoy it. Some have makeup bags in them for that extra application once the wind hits my face, hair, eyelashes or whatever. Then after a brief touch up I exit the car into a maelstrom. When I return I look like I’ve been thrown into a pit and had to claw my way out.

Invariably my printed form of my shopping list gets lost or left somewhere and I hope that whoever finds these gems can appreciate the lengths I go to in order to jot down what I need from various outlets.

Invariably, John always rushes me out of any retail outlet.

John usually drives and I’m the co-pilot, with handy hints for what he should have done so he wouldn’t have missed our turn offs or parked at the edge of beyond in the parking lots and expect me to walk a mile to get to a shop.

John sits in the car and waits for me at the last few stops. I wear him out with my ability to look at every item in every store we enter, quite thoughtfully.

I find whatever I need and often find things he doesn’t think we need.

We avoid a knock down drag out fight in most shops. But dirty looks are not off limits in public from a certain male I know. He needs a refresher course in being out in public. We’re both just used to having the trees and chickens for company. We’ve devolved.

Everything takes twice as long as expected and we have half of the patience of saints.

Nothing is harder than trying to have a good argument while driving.

Coming home is always nicer than leaving. No traffic, roadwork, sheep on the road, frenetic pace, just peace and quiet after we feed the frantic beasts we live with who always think we’re never returning and await our return impatiently at best.

John brings everything in, including the dirt on his boots, which he distributes everywhere humanly possible for wifey to pick up somehow, and I put everything away and make dinner for the cats, baby chickens and ultimately for us.

It’s exhausting being a back seat driver located in the front seat. Time for a nap, but I’m too busy, so John rests for me.

We’re ultimately happy to be back. It’s really paradise here, especially if you like driving to get anywhere. I don’t particularly but I do relish our solitude here.

I’m not sure how to match photos to this blog post. I could take a few shots of the parking lot outside with our four cars and one van awaiting the return of our prodigal son and I could complain that we rotate the cars we take to town so that none get ignored. A few trips back I got to ride shotgun in a car, a Citroen, with a broken locking device on my side. Ingenious hubby had removed the panel covering the machinery of the guts of the door and I got to sit next to the dirt and dust of the ages that accumulated there. But I refused to get into that car unless he let me wipe down most of the filth, which I did, holding my nose. Then we were off. When we reached our first stop John had to open the door for me from the outside, but eventually I figured out how to do that from the inside and how to close it, sort of. A very challenging ride though was on the cards for me as we proceeded onward, with no place to put my left arm, since the armrest was only on the panel that was missing and sorely missed.

All of his Mister Fixit traits were considered by me to be so charming before we got hitched. Now, decades later, they are perceived a tad differently by yours truly. But he is a maverick and knows how to fix anything and everything so I’ll stop finding fault. I’m only good at breaking things and at that I excel. Point taken. But don’t be surprised if I only throw in some oddball photos that show how cute the new chicks are or some more of my endless flower shots, that are trying so hard to bloom during and despite a rainy start to summer Down Under, after our very rainy last three seasons. So our ponds are still here on the front paddock and behind our back garden and waterfowl are also blooming in our little piece of paradise that we were lucky enough to find when it was vacant. Most people want new houses and convenient locations. We wanted to get away from cities and traffic and noise and neighbors and regain our peace of mind. But we do drive to and fro quite often, for everything. But it could be a whole lot worse.