Is this your week?
- The boy has an afterschool ballgame.
- There is a 7AM meeting with the Chamber Committee.
- The dry cleaning needs to be picked up.
- The girl’s orthodontist appointment is this afternooon.
- The oil change light came on in the car.
- The bushes out front are looking a bit brown.
- We have to read that thing before small group tomorrow night.
- You never called your parents back.
In today’s over-booked suburban culture it’s not hard to imagine getting home after all the things are done, parking the car, waiting for the kids to drag themselves out, putting your head back on the seat, closing your eyes and thinking…
“I just want a simpler life”.
Here’s the thing.
Ditching Suburbia can lead to a simpler life for you and your family.
A simpler life is not always an easier life.
When you bought your house you called the utility company and had the water and electricity turned on. You started using the bathroom and shower without thinking any more about it.
You had internet service hooked up. You browse the web, watch movies and stream music with no concerns about how much bandwidth you are using.
You arranged a trash collection service. Now those garbage cans and recycle bins get emptied on a weekly schedule.
You know where to get gas. Where to get groceries. How to get to the Chamber meeting. Who to call for plumbing or car repairs.
You know the plan your school has for your kids.
Suburban life is a convenient life. All of the sharp edges have been rounded off with products and services designed to remove risk, fear, frustration, and physical exertion:
- Baby monitors
- Garage door openers
- Lawn services
- Personal shoppers
- The Clapper
The ditched life is simpler.
We own fewer things. We’re not tied to the demands of a school system. We work for ourselves. On our schedule (mostly). We don’t have kids in debate, soccer, or drama. We own our days.
But that simplicity doesn’t mean life is easier.
All of those arrangements for utilities you made once for your suburban house? We are doing those every time we move.
We have to source an electric, water and sewer connection. No sewer at this park? OK - now we have to mind our black tank because we’d rather not have it full before we’re scheduled to leave.
No water connection? Now we have to manage and meter our fresh water usage. Ran out? Get the bucket and start making trips from the faucet on the other side of the campground.
Oh, you need the yoga mat? That’s outside, in the basement storage, behind 3 other crates that have to come out first.
Internet doesn’t connect like they said it would? OK - I have client work due so I’ll need to find a library or coffee shop.
Fuel pump on the truck quits working? OK - now we have to scramble to find a place to live and a repair shop in a town we aren’t familiar with.
Our child doesn’t understand how credit cards work? OK - we’ll have to source a personal finance curriculum to solve that.
The ditched life is often more mundane than suburban life. It’s the cost of entry to a simpler life.
The ditched life has views of the Grand Canyon, drives along the Oregon Coast, a view of the Great Sand Dunes, or time with friends I wouldn’t otherwise see.
The question for you is this:
Are you willing to pay that entry fee?