Margo & Andrew, Unplugged
Tonight starts a grand adventure: our first-ever Unplugged Week. We’re heading to New Hampshire for a full seven days—and we’re leaving our computers behind. We’ll officially be off the grid: there will be no internet access, little to no cell reception, no TV, and not even a landline phone. There’s one neighbor in sight, but no more. We’ve packed a stack of books and games, have plans to go canoeing and hiking, will have plenty of cook-outs, and…that’s about it. Bliss.
Andrew and I haven’t been to New Hampshire for a few years now, and I’m excited to go back. For all my agitating to move back to a big city, there’s something almost equally appealing about just heading off to the middle of nowhere, with only the frogs and crickets for company.
One small problem with being in such seclusion is that Andrew and I both have very over-active imaginations that tend to overwork themselves at night in isolated conditions. My very first time at the house, we went for a walk late one night, through an overgrown, pitch-dark stand of trees, barely able to see our own hands in front of our faces. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” I quietly mused. “How well does one person really know another?” For some reason, this freaked us both out. It doesn’t sound that scary, but trust me, it was. Andrew and I hadn’t actually been dating very long at that point, and I think he probably wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.
Andrew and I haven’t been to New Hampshire for a few years now, and I’m excited to go back. For all my agitating to move back to a big city, there’s something almost equally appealing about just heading off to the middle of nowhere, with only the frogs and crickets for company.
One small problem with being in such seclusion is that Andrew and I both have very over-active imaginations that tend to overwork themselves at night in isolated conditions. My very first time at the house, we went for a walk late one night, through an overgrown, pitch-dark stand of trees, barely able to see our own hands in front of our faces. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” I quietly mused. “How well does one person really know another?” For some reason, this freaked us both out. It doesn’t sound that scary, but trust me, it was. Andrew and I hadn’t actually been dating very long at that point, and I think he probably wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.
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