Who knew the burbs were so quiet.

I am having trouble sleeping.

After years of sleeping through NYC sirens, street-corner philosophers yelling at pigeons and the ambient aroma of recreational weed, I assumed I was noise-proof.

I have dozed off to the soothing rhythm of a garbage truck symphony and considered honking horns to be my white noise machine.

Now a dog barks two blocks away and bam I am up like someone fired a starter pistol next to my bed.

My sleep is being derailed by nature.

Nature…crickets, rustling leaves, rogue bunnies and bounding deer. It’s like camping which is not in my wheelhouse.

Let’s talk about that dog for a second…mine. Walks in the city are in a civilized park with trash cans and benches and bonus smells of pizza and pretzels.

Here? The dog insists on a pastoral adventure comprised of miles of wooded lanes, wild turkeys to chase, and no trash cans in sight which means I am  now a woman walking three miles with a warm poop bag swinging in rhythm to my country gait.

I know the poop bag is biodegradable, but I still can’t bring myself to fling it into the underbrush like I’m some kind of eco-criminal. There’s just something about lobbing even an earth friendly turd satchel into the pristine woods that feels unseemly.

Another matter is the suburban homeowner’s rite of passage, the Never-Ending To-Do List.

You know how in New York, home maintenance means calling the super and waiting for him to show up.

Well now I’m the super and have to bond with the contractor, painter, plumber, the pool guy, pest control sprayer and the landscaper.

Still, I must admit, there is a certain rustic charm here. The air smells like actual oxygen. The trees wave at me. People wave, too which initially is frightening and a whole adjustment on its own.

In the city, if someone makes eye contact, it is usually followed by an offer to buy fake Guccis, demand money or a rant about the moon being a CIA project. In the netherlands everyone is just… friendly. It is disarming.

So yes, the burbs where the silence is deafening, the poop bag is eternal and the dream of peace and quiet comes bundled with a power washer, a leaf blower and the fantasy come true of a swimming pool in the backyard.

I am confident that I will learn to deal with the quiet.