Real Life “Roughin’ It’

A friend commented that I was just romanticizing my reversion from Urban to Rural life.

Tsk.

If only they knew what I can do now.

Seven gallons of spring water, count ’em, uphill for about 15 minutes, on a steep 27 degrees or so of incline. Everyday, twice a day. Shaved off about 12 lbs of fat and extra baggage. I’ve been able to carry chooped trees of good size  from a distance to our habitation. Our corn are sprouting beautifully. Cassava is on the way to its new area.

Imagine living, breathing, enjoying every minute with less noise and hum of engines and motorized vehicles. A buzzsaw can be forgiveable. I can pl;ay my 12-string guitar at night with the best acoustics no money can buy.

And the whole bukid is my playground. Oops! I take that back. My two daughters have already staked their claim. My skin has turned wonderfully Indio Brown, unlike the sickly pale color during my tenure in the city.

So if you tell me you’ve had some goodf adventure with your 1000cc Enduro on a weekend, or jumped  bungee, I smirk at your so-called exciting gigs. What’s more exciting thatn fearing snakebite almost everyday? Nah, living country style is much more adventurous.

And I thinbk I have found living here does not mean I have to be removed from civilization.

Now if only these darned electricians can connect us to the power on time to do some graphic work . . . .

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