Personal Oil Crisis

a mansion from the other side.

I am beginning to feel like a closet alcoholic. At least what I imagine that might feel like. The irony of moving to the country to enjoy a better way of life only to discover that it is all quietly wrapped up in consumption of the worst kind. Oil guzzling.

Symptoms of bucolic withdrawal have led to a place with plenty of space and trees and birds and insane oil bills. The thermostat is glued below 50 so it is not exactly cozy country living, at least not until the wood stoves are hooked up. Cross country skiing in the Catskills yesterday was blissful until we went the wrong direction and spent nearly $40 in gas.

The best perks to come out of this so far are the gift of a beautiful handmade fat Argentinian wool sweater....oh, and new radical personal cause. The highly insulated roof and radiantly heated bathroom are clearly only the first steps on a new kind of  'greening' adventure. Or maybe there could be a different currency for this issue?