The top 3 times I seriously considered moving to the suburbs
I’ve lived in both the city and the suburbs for 30 years, and trust me—I’m a city girl at heart. Where else except for a vibrant, thriving city can you find Drag Queen Story Hour or roving carolers with boom boxes? Plus, as a parent, there is something magical about raising a kid in a city. I’d rather that my kid has the words “bodega” and “train” in her vocabulary than, say, “drive-thru” or, “empty field.”
Although nothing lights up my heart like traffic signs and fluorescent lights glowing from empty office buildings after everyone’s left for the day, there are times when I’ve thought fondly back to my days of living in the ‘burbs and felt downright nostalgic. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve quickly shaken off those nostalgic feelings, steeled myself against an unforgiving, tough metropolis, and headed out into the nitty gritty streets that I love, kid in tow. But there is something to be said for the simple life, and these are the top three times I’ve considered settling down in the suburbs.
1. When a rat showed up under my kitchen sink
It looked like a crime scene; blood was splattering my paper towel rolls and Windex, guts had been flung onto the cabinet walls, like the rat trap snapping down on this guy’s neck was a crime of passion. Like this rat had done something bad to a family of rat traps, and the rat traps were out for revenge. Or, at least, that’s what my husband told me, because as the lady of the house, there are two things I don’t do: windows and cleaning up rat corp