Two examples from the last two days on why becoming a homesteading hermit sounds awesome (minus the endless amounts of work part):
You don’t realize all the things you need in a house until you have to stock one. My husband and his siblings have acquired a cabin for us all to share and we went this weekend to pick up the required supplies. (I offered to do it because one sibling is in the process of planning a wedding while in medical school and the other is helping plan the wedding while juggling her child’s high school graduation. The least I can do is pick up sheets). So on Sunday, Jess and I took our children and filled multiple carts with bedding, cleaning products, kitchen necessities and other miscellaneous home goods. It felt a little bit like Supermarket Sweep. And then we took a house worth of stuff up to the register where the cashier would. not. shut. up.
An endless stream of consciousness came pouring out of his mouth while we unloaded and reloaded our items. I even stopped with the polite “oh”s and “yeah”s in the hopes he would eventually wind down. No luck. A Niagara Falls of words deluged over me.
Today, I had a dentist appointment. I will never understand how hygienists expect you to carry on a conversation but they do. Yes, it’s summer. Yes, it rained this morning. Yes, it’s sunny now. Yes, my kids are out of school. They’re almost 9 and 7. Yes, good ages. Yes, we have a vacation planned for the summer. All while thinking, “Dear Lord, I know I’m supposed to ask you questions too, but this is torture. Can we please just be quiet while you assault my mouth with pointy metal things?”
I do try. I understand that part of the social contract is that we pretend that other peoples’ musings on the weather report are more interesting than the thoughts in our own heads. I accept that mindless chatter is the grease of social interactions because nice people make small talk. Nice people ask follow up questions. Nice people carry on conversations about banalities and enjoy it. It’s an absolute miracle I have friends. I am not nice.
So can we make a deal, random people? I’ll ask how old your kids are and muse that it was so, so, so hot on Saturday, but please, after a few minutes…just stop. I’m really not trying to be rude. I just like the quiet*.
*I’m so tempted to have that made into a button I wear everywhere.