the electronic cottage

It was supposed to be rustic—books and records (yes, vinyl!) but no TV, a clothesline instead of a dryer, no microwave. Bikes. Windsurfers. A garden. I didn't even have plumbing—cold water from a hose into a sink with buckets under the drain holes and an electric toilet. Please pee outside.
But the creature comforts crept in. There are still books and records and the garden, but there are also three bathrooms, a dishwasher, washer/dryer and a microwave for the renters, who are generally terrified by my Chambers stove. An iPod connection to the amplifier. Oh, and there's DSL.
I tried again. I bought a tiny building in the Ozarks a couple months ago. The barest necessities (bed, stove, toilet, refrigerfator). No cell reception unless you go to the top of the hill.
Friends, I failed. A week after I moved in, I ordered up DSL. No long distance line, mind you, but simple life or no, I wanted my New York Times, a line of communication with my friends and family. Thoreau schmoreau. You can watch me cave here.
BTW, per Pico Iyer's "The Joy of Less"in the NYT yesterday (the power of which is revealed by a surge of hundreds of blog readers who clicked on my comment), they speak a different language in the Ozarks, too. But I still found myself getting sucked into friendships and social situations. As a one-time professional listener, talking with people is my blood. And it's tough to be an island. Especially when you're on one.
I have held out on the TV, though. Once someone said to my brother, "Everyone in your family is so creative!" He said, "Everybody is creative; we just don't watch TV in our family." True. So it isn't like I'm denying myself something. The renters just have to suck it up. Or watch on line.