When I moved to the suburbs I worried about certain things…
The quiet. And yes, sometimes I really do still miss the drunk bachelorettes outside of Tortilla Flats, the screaming, fighting couples at 3 am and the honking of impatient cabbies. I know it sounds insane if you’re not a city person but I take comfort in a place that keeps going long after I go to bed.
Limited delivery options. Basically, I had to find my own personal delivery guy. His name is Rick. Last night, he brought me a tasty dish from Little Thai Kitchen. He didn’t even charge me. He’s awesome like that.
Life without a doorman. I open my own door now, which is actually not that difficult.
Intruders. So far no one has tried to break in. I really wish they would because I could use another hand around here to fold some laundry.
Having no friends. There are great gals here in Westchester. Well, not that I’ve met them. But I follow them around from a distance and they seem way cool. In all seriousness, I actually know some people now who are funny and nice and awesome. Thank goodness.
But when we decided to move to the suburbs, the one thing I apparently forgot to worry about was trying to physically get into my car…
That’s my car on the right. How the hell am I, a pregnant woman, supposed to open my car door and get into my vehicle when someone parks this close? In fact, I’ve noticed that this is a consistent problem in the SUV crazed suburbs where all the cars seem way too bloated for all the narrow parking spots.
In this case, I actually had to crawl through the passenger side to get in.
But in all fairness, I sort of parked too close to the line.
Ok maybe a little bit over the line.
You know what I need to make sure this problem gets completely out of control? I should trade in my Toyota Highlander Hybrid for an even bigger car.
To be continued in another post…