Urban Boy

While I was home last weekend and waxing poetic about the dogwoods and wisteria and azaleas and redbuds and how fucking beautiful North Carolina is in the spring, Lady J observed that I seem right at home in the city. That actually brought me up short, as I've thought that before but realized that I've spent almost my whole life living either in the suburbs of southern cities (Nashville, Atlanta, Charlotte, DC (and yes, DC is in many ways a Southern city), Greensboro) or in a college town. I do feel comfortable in cities but I certainly have yet to make myself at home in Chicago, due more to spending almost all of my time here working than anything else. I at least feel pretty much at home in the surrounding few blocks, but I haven't ventured out on the L to other parts of the city - until I do, I'm still a tourist.

As far as being a city boy, I'll admit that the thought of having a lawn fills me more with dread than joy and I'd be perfectly happy enjoying those dogwoods and azaleas in parks and on campus rather than necessarily having to have my own. I seem to take pretty naturally to protective coloration (as evidenced by the Borders clerk last week that was convinced we were native Chicagoans and the hordes of people with nametags that are constantly asking me directions). As much as I miss my home and my town, I could live here - no problem - except that I don't think I could afford to live here in the style that I'd want to unless someone continued to pay my expenses!

All of that being said, after the week (and month) I've had, my temptation is to pick up a six-pack downstairs and sit in the apartment tonight playing Dungeon Siege.