I crave simplicity and the homesteading life – this in spite of the fact that I can kill a house plant in six seconds flat and have never milked a cow.
Regardless of such a fact, I’ve decided to start my own commune.
My public-schooled, executive, non-religious brother already thinks I live in one anyway and he phones occasionally to make sure I am not wearing long dresses, marrying off my small daughters, allowing my husband extra wives, watching for comets, and drinking Kool-aid. (I stay mum.)
Of course there will have to be some rules in my commune. This isn’t a free for all! Breaking the rules will terminate our weird, crunchy, granola, hippy-dippy way of life, so try to adhere.
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