Free State Observer

Three years ago today, I blogged about how I was leaving the Libertarian Party and becoming politically independent. To paraphrase the Dead, what a long strange trip it’s been since then.

Today, I’m declaring a different kind of independence, and one that I believe is more significant than a political party affiliation or lack thereof. I spent the day moving some of my crap into my new home, the first house I have ever owned. Owning my own home has extreme emotional, almost mythical, significance for me. While most little girls were playing with baby dolls and dreaming of their wedding day, I was playing with my extensive collection of toy horses and dreaming of owning my own ranch. Laura Ingalls was my imaginary friend (really). OK, maybe there was some less wholesome play with my Ken doll and a bevy of blond plastic vixens, but let’s stay on topic, shall we?

Not only am I moving into a new house, I’m moving into a completely new lifestyle. I spent my childhood living in a succession of utterly stereotypical 3-BR suburban ranch houses, and my adulthood in a succession of apartments, shared flats, and shared houses, all in cities. Now, I live on a “mail carrier rural route”! I have my own sources of water and heat, and enough land and vegetation to raise my own produce, dairy, and even brew my own maple syrple if I want. Of course, I’m not focused on any of that right now; I’m focused on when is the Internet getting turned on (40 hours, not that I’m counting or anything). I may be a country geekgrrl now, but they’ll take my high speed phat pipe from my cold, dead hands!!!

I’ve never been responsible for care and upkeep of my own place of residence before. If something broke, Daddy fixed it. Or the University fixed it. Or the landlord fixed it. Or the property management company fixed it. Now, if something breaks, *I* fix it, or go without. Considering I had trouble figuring out how to open a f@@@ing bird feeder earlier today, I’m thinking I have a LOT to learn. I’d better stop drinking; I need every remaining brain cell.

I’m not so deluded as to think I’m truly independent and self-sufficient. I can’t produce all my own food, and have no interest in even trying; it’s far more efficient (and less strenuous) for me to stare at a computer monitor all day and then pay somebody else to produce my food. And while I know I can get by without electricity, I have no intention of living that lifestyle unless things get really Bibliddy and apocalyptic. As for defending myself by actually putting a bullet into another human being, I honestly don’t know if I’ve got it in me, and hope to never need to find out.

So now, with a sore back and aching muscles I didn’t know I had (nothing like wrangling a 55-lb dehumidifier down the basement stairs in 70% humidity; good times), I declare my independence…

– from the municipal water system
– from the electrical grid for heating purposes (have to work on removing that prepositional clause)
– from the municipal waste hauling system
– from any lingering false sense of security provided by the close proximity of city cops
– from spoiled obliviousness of the basic workings of common household appliances
– from scraping ice off the car windows at oh-dark-thirty AM (yessssssssss)
– from carrying 30-lb bags of kitty litter up two flights of stairs
– from air conditioning and electric dishwashers

Just kidding on that last one. Homegirl NEEDS A/C and a dishwasher.