To commute or not commute – that is like so the question

Meaning of life, is milk bad for you, should you rent or buy, will you go to hell if you don’t floss twice daily? Forget all of those, the only question for me at the moment is ‘should I stay or should I go?’ By what I mean, should I stay living in the mountains or should I move to the city and be closer to work.

My commuting life involves a ridiculous amount of travel – from what is basically a country town, to the heart of the city daily. It involves much getting home late, getting to work late, working on the train, eating dinner or breakfast on the train, having to dash for last train if I head out late in the city, often missing things because I’m not home early enough in the mountains – yadda, yadda, I’m sure you can imagine.

On the plus side, I live in a lovely place, and even the view from the train is lovely, really lovely. There are birds and sky, and at night it is silent in a peaceful way. The people are laid back and lack some of that city-angst, city-buzz, city-competitive vibe that you can really smell after the clean air of up here. People are a little on the vegetarian, wool wearing, bearded, yoga doing, part time job having, chicken owning, dog walking, permaculture garden doing side. Which I love. I have good friends who feel like family, who are kind and nurturing and make me feel like part of their families. People I watch tellie with and drink wine with and tease and bearhug hello and goodbye. Speaking of smells, on my walk home it is cold, even now that it’s Spring, and my nose is slightly icy and I can smell the bakery on the main street, and then wood fires, and whatever is in bloom in gardens that I pass. It is silent and I can hear the echoes of any other footfalls on the street I walk down from blocks away. I can see the stars, brightly. When home I can walk around my little house in my knickers aimlessly making coffee, putting on music, nesting. I can be messy and drop newspapers in piles, leave clothes on the bathroom floor, let the dishes pile up until I feel a burst of housework coming on, and all if this suits me fine.

But living in the city and being able to walk to work is an attractive proposition.

But then again, when did work get to be the deciding factor in my life?

But then again, surely its ok to make decisions based on convenience that suit for right now, they don’t have to be permanent forever type decisions.

You see? Not an instantly easy decision to make, has pros and cons, heart and head both have a say, and my poor tired body is mostly too bust trying to catch up on sleep to say anything much.

Upshot? I have tentatively told some friends in the inner west that I’ll move in when their housemate moves out – likely to be sometime in the next 2 months. Glebe. If it happens I’ll have a little upstairs room in a little terrace house, sharing with people I know and like, and close enough to walk to work. My cat will get company in the evenings even if I’m home late. My window would have a glimpse of city lights and water, and big leafy gum trees in the courtyard will wave at me through the window.