How do you measure success? Does the one with the most toys win? I use the toilet bowl method. The fewer I have to clean, the more successful I am. Since my kids left home, I have been downsizing to the point where I have one bed, a couch, and a few mouse droppings. The mouse is living more lavishly than I am.
When they laid the concrete pad for my house, I could walk across it in a few steps. Now that I have to negotiate walls, baby gates, and dog chew toys, it takes a couple extra steps to get from point A (my bed) to point B (my refrigerator).
My bed and refrigerator are both located in the south. I moved to South Carolina five years ago for a) the lower cost of living; b) warmer weather; and c) cheaper cigarettes—don’t hate me because I smoke. I discovered a land of rare beauty, and people who aren’t (contrary to popular opinion) idiots—until they get behind the wheel.
I’ve been here long enough that I drink sweet tea, call strangers “hon,” and have a growing contempt for the condescending attitude of northerners. We put our camouflage hunting pants on one leg at a time just like you do.
The south is a wonderful place to simplify your life. There’s no work—simple. It’s too hot to leave the house in the summer—simple. I enjoy the simple pleasure of napping during a football game, although the people in the sports bar look at me pretty funny. Maybe it’s because I wake up with my head on the table and barbecue sauce in my hair.
I would highly recommend South Carolina to all you Yankeelanders who want to escape the rat race that is Bismark, North Dakota. You’ll find a warm welcome, a glass of sweet tea, and a mouse in your garage.