The "Cottage" Edition
The past few days was a throwback to my 3-day Los Angeles. trips. Usually a work trip with one or two personal dates thrown in, this long weekend is the reverse. The evocative parallels are basically that I am booked 9a to 9p and am 15- to 45-minutes late to everything due to a misjudging not only of traffic, but parking. One additional similarity is that everyone who lives there (or summers here) asks me if I “HATE IT” there, meaning that you can only love/hate either of NY/LA or, in my case, Fire Island/The Hamptons. I never give them a satisfying answer. The answer is that I love being in both places and could spend a lot of time in both.
I really do like it here but I just… can’t live here. I grew up in the Long Island suburbs. I moved to a big city for a reason. The polished lawns, streets devoid of humans who are not gardeners and pristine, unused children’s play furniture is depressing to me. I don’t want to spend my weekends in traffic. Also, if I’m going to live at “the beach” I would like to be able to see “the beach” without a parking permit. Okay all that said, the natural geography and architecture (sans my beloved Real Housewives McShinglmansions) is unique and stunning. The number and variety of specimen trees is very special. You can’t believe how good the . And if for some reason you want to go to Alice & Olivia or Cartier instead of a bagel store on Saturday morning this is the place for you. Also, it doesn’t matter whether I want to have a house here or not because apparently I couldn’t afford the outhouse behind a clam shack, by the looks of it.
I guess it was a poor decision to travel to the Hamptons this weekend after all, rather than to Illinois, where someone won the 1.337 billion dollar Megamillions jackpot. If I had bought the winning ticket here in the Southampton mini-mart, where we bought our lottery tickets, I would have had a huge decision to make. Would I actually begin to like the idea of become a person with a really nice house? Here in the Hamptons? Perhaps a really, really nice house which requires “staff”? Or maybe a super-duper, really, really nice house which requires staff who has staff? I have been able to assess all three options this weekend. I will ponder it until a few weeks from now when I need to be back for some more Hamptons festivities. I may report additionally on those inclinations, then.
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