“How long does it take you to get to town?”
“Does that drive get old?”
“Do you come in every day?”
“How do the kids handle it?”
I answer in rote fashion not because I’m irritated but because there are simple answers to most of these inquiries.
Twenty three minutes. Sometimes. Most days. Depends on the day.
Most of the time, these questions are coming from a good place. People are interested, curious and maybe a little intrigued by the thought of living out of town. But every now and then I have friend who digs a little deeper, who just cannot understand our choice to live in the middle of a cow pasture with falling down fences in every direction.