A week ago! Yes, you, the one who finally sold your jewelry box in Józsefváros on the fourth floor, in order to escape the filth and stench of the capital and move out to your whitewashed, anthracite-roofed dream home in the middle of the chirping greenery! I will give you some advice so that you can better fit into the rural community.
Even before moving out, it is imperative that you ask the generalist to clear your entire plot. Hundred-year-old walnut trees, abundant cherries, magnificent rose bushes, pines, perish! If you still have something that reminds you of something alive, cut it down, eradicate it, weed it.
Paving the freed area.
What can't be paved, fill it with concrete.
If there is still some grass left, sprinkle it with white gravel. Don't worry at all that next year the weeds will beat up the yard like a kindergarten in Chernobyl.
Tastefully fill the front of the house with kulekavički. Put some hardened thuja seedlings in between because you need the green. They will surely feel good among the stones at ninety degrees. If the stones roll onto the road, do not accidentally shovel them back.
On your remaining 30 square meters of lawn, buy a robotic lawnmower worth half a million and install an automatic irrigation system.
The following year, you'll realize that it's still a lot of work, and you'll replace it with artificial grass.
If you weren't careful enough and a fruit tree happened to be left in front of your house, then let its fruit rot on the ground. Then fuck off.
Ask the notary for property protection, because the leaf from the neighbor's tree falls on your carefully trimmed lawn.
Complain about how damn hot it is.
Install a one and a half million shade system and water the paving stone at least three times a day.
Join the local Facebook group and ask where the nearest NorbiUpdate store is. Get stuck when they say 30km.
Complain in indignant posts that the grass is mowed and hammered on the weekend, the rooster crows in the morning, the dog barks in the evening, the tractor passes by the house, the circular saw whines, the flex cries, Family Frost plays, the gas plays, the pen buyer comes.
Find out how to drive birds away from your property in the most effective way, because you can't sleep because of their crowing.
Get upset that there is no yoga, pilates or spinning in your town.
Go everywhere by car, even if finding a parking space takes longer than the journey itself.
Complain about why there are so many mosquitoes, bugs, insects, all kinds of many-legged things. Eliminate all of them.
Buy the most delicate, busy working dog, preferably a Vizsla, Doberman or Border Collie, or perhaps a hysterical Dalmatian. Get bored after a month and never take him for walks or to dog school again. If the neighbors complain that he is constantly barking and whining, tell them that they are too.
Come out of your local Coop sighing, huffing and puffing your cheeks spectacularly that you can't even get staples like spelled spelt, tofu mash and extra virgin avocado seed oil in this damn town.
Collect a petition so that the nearby football field is cleared immediately, because even at night they are loud there, and the floodlights shine right through your window.
Write a post indignant that little Chrysostom can't even be enrolled in a miserable bench workout in this sleazy settlement.
On your way to work, (back to Pest) sitting in traffic, post that everyone could really use public transport, because you can't move.
Write a letter to the school principal that it is completely outrageous that the school does not have a native-level Nepali language teacher, even though little Chrysostom will spend the summer in a Buddhist monastery seeking peace of mind.
Every spring and fall, ask your local group what that nasty manure smell is.
Be upset that there is smoke in the winter.
Every day, stand in front of the school with your motorbike running for twenty minutes, waiting for little Chrysostom.
In the summer, grill on charcoal, but don't accidentally light it normally, and pour three bottles of lighter fluid on it and let it spew smoke all night.
Complain that there is no program.
If there is a program, complain about the noise, flag the silence order, have a noise measurement done.
If you happen to go to a program, write a long post the next day about the organization, the star guest, the food, and emphasize as much as you can how the whole thing was generally below your level.
Don't park by chance in your yard parking lot, excuse me, in your garage, park calmly on the edge of the already narrow road. Try to park on the right and left side of the road in turn with your like-minded neighbors so that you can only slalom along the entire street. But it is also good if you park on both sides so that there is no space between you.
If there happens to be a sidewalk, even better. Park there.
At the weekend, dress up, jump in the car, and head for the forest! Do not accidentally stop in the built-up parking lot, go into the forest until
- a) the car does not get stuck
- b) the path is wide enough
- c) the forester does not stand in your way
Then park on a hawthorn bush or a game patch, and the tour can begin. After five minutes, you'll be tired of it all, but take a few smiling selfies for Facebook anyway. #természetlágyölén #far from town #25km tour #birdwatching
Buy three tomato seedlings and plant them. Into a pot.
Start a petition to stop the playground that has been operating there for sixty years, because the ball bounces loudly.
In autumn, tie a checkered scarf on your head, put on an apron, peel off the label of a store-bought jam, add three store-bought tomatoes and take a few nice selfies. You can also go to Insta. #vidékilife #farmer #pestennincsilyen #bestbahazai
As a way of self-affirmation, start a TikTok channel, where you convince the unfortunate city dwellers still in Pest that rural life is wonderful, and that you would never be able to live in the concrete jungle again.
Fall asleep sobbing into your pillow at night, cursing the day when you moved here ten kilometers behind the back of God (on a dirt road), wish the whole prole farm world and the many jerk peasants in rubber boots to hell.
Dream of endless rows of shops, air-conditioned mall air, pumpkinspice Starbucks lattes, the smell of gyros mixed with the smell of urine in subways and the soothing hum of the seventy-four bus.
Featured image source: esteticaarch.hu
