Last weekend was a long one in the country. It occurred to me that an almost insuperable problem in living there permanently would be the planning required. I'm not sure my mental pathways could adapt now to the necessary changes.
In the city, if you'd like some lemon on your fish, or fancy a few slices of salami, or have run out of milk for the porridge you just pop round the corner. In the country, you have to do massive, cover-all-eventuality shops, planning menus days in advance. And if you mess up or fancy something on a whim you'll go short unless you drive to the nearest town.
We don't use the car for days sometimes and often decide what to have for dinner just before we have it. It's liberating to come back to.