It’s true. I’m an honest to goodness Country Mouse. If you’ve never been covered in river mud from off-road 4-wheeling, cleaned 1,000 bugs off the grill of your car from driving down a dirt road at night, or waved your orange vest at the idiot firing his shotgun behind you during deer season, then you probably grew up in the City. So, you can imagine that no one was more surprised than me when I discovered that a Country Mouse can change her stripes and love the bustling Metropolitan life.

Metropolitan conveniences I can no longer live without include:
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Grocery delivery to your doorstep. This is a concept that was so foreign to me, I thought the first advertisement I received offering to deliver grubbage to my dwelling must have been a phishing email. Who ever heard of a truck pulling up to your home and unloading a week’s worth of refrigerated food? The closest thing I’ve ever experienced to this was the milk man’s weekly route to my childhood home. Although, I was awfully young and am not 100% sure that he was delivering just the goodness of milk.

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Dog walkers for hire. In small towns and in the country, there is no need for a human to come to your house to love on, pet, and exercise your dog. They just run free range, and everyone feeds them. But in the city, this is a service utilized by almost every dog owner I know. If you live in the city, then you are working long hours to pay for ridiculously high rent, and your four-legged friend, Jaffrey, has been cooped up all day. What a novel and humane idea to hire a trusted person to fill in as a temporary surrogate while you work to provide gourmet dog food (delivered to your door, no doubt).

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Dry Cleaners V.I.P. pick up and delivery. In rural lifestyle, you have to drive into the nearest town of more than 500 people to drop off your Wrangler jeans so the starch will have time to set before Friday night’s barn dance hoe down. But if you’re a Metropolitan Mouse, your dirty skivvies will be picked up at your location in a designer bag tagged with your identification and treated to your personal preferences kept on file: please starch Wranglers so they will stand on their own.

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Public transportation renders a personal vehicle useless. In the country, it could be 30 miles to your mailbox, so a car (or truck) is a vital necessity.  But catching a ride to the opera in the city is a tad bit easier by hopping on a train or bus in your evening gown or tuxedo. After paying to park my car close to my humble downtown abode, paying meters at the local shopping strip, and covering the exorbitant cost of insurance for owning a car I never drive, I took the plunge and sold the money pit. Now, I train to work, bus to the mall, and Uber to the baseball stadium to catch a lazy Sunday afternoon game. My groceries will have arrived when I get home, and my dog will have been exercised.

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Apps for the downtown mouse. In case you still aren’t on board with the Metropolitan life I lead, then checking out the Apps necessary to live downtown will put you over the edge. If you would like to order a restaurant meal on Friday night, GrubHub will deliver it to your door, prepaid with a credit card on file of course. Jaffrey needs a pamper, so why not book a mobile bathing unit from Pet Partner and order puppy bubbles to your door? Maybe it’s Friday night and all your married friends are spending time with their kids. You just want to meet for drinks and dinner but need a group to hang with. Try the Meetup app in every city in the world. You can scan the type of group you’d like to join (I’m not judging), and see where they are meeting up. Meetup members have more time to groove with you since their dogs are walked, groceries are put away, and don’t have to look for parking because they Uber’d over to the restaurant.

The conveniences available to a Metropolitan Mouse are endless and make my downtown life extraordinarily simple. Without them, I would have to actually become a responsible adult and do something for myself. That might cause me to stress out and call a therapist. But luckily, there’s an App for that.


Sherrie’s Always Write

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