City Mouse or Country Mouse?

I've discovered that I'm a country mouse. Or at least a small town mouse. Definitely not a city mouse. (Gareth watched a SuperWhy episode using that story the day we moved.) I love cities for visiting, but actually living right in them? Not for me. I was doing great on moving day until we were driving in downtown, trying to find our way to our temporary housing. And the crowds and the traffic and all the one-way streets quickly started to irk me, knowing I'd have to put up with it every day for the next several weeks. Your rooms are never completely dark because of all the lights shining right in them. And don't even get me started on the trains that went by around 2 am, ringing their bells or whistles or whatever for several minutes straight. Between that and what sounded like someone vacuuming at 3 am and Gareth getting up and helping us realize that if you turn the door handle to the apartment from the inside, the deadbolt will unlock itself and he'll walk out of the apartment, causing me to toss and turn with worry that he'll leave the apartment and go down the elevator and who knows where during the middle of the night, I didn't have a great first night. I'm sure I'll get used to some of it after a few days (and I finally got up that first night and put a chair in front of the apartment door), but right now I'm just exhausted and trying to battle the usual post-move feelings of "why did we ever come here?!". The discouragement of looking for housing isn't helping things either. Too bad all the interesting jobs are in big cities and not small towns like Somerville or affordable places like Lafayette. I guess I'll have to eventually give up on finding a replica of my hometown and settle for becoming a suburbanite as the next best thing. Hopefully once we find a place to live my glumness will dissipate at the prospect of reuniting with decent knives and a full array of toys for Gareth.