It’s curious, the stages people go through, in their choice of abodes. After observing the entire process for a number of years, I’m prepared to publish this definitive You Are Where You Live Timeline:
Stage 1: Cheapest Grungiest Apartment Evar
You might be in college, you might be at your first job. Wash dishes? Eh, maybe. Pick up shit off the floor? Why bother? Gravity is still ON, isn’t it? It’ll just fall down there again.
Stage 2: Slightly Better Apartment
But ONLY because getting laid more often, and by a better class of partner, is higher up on your to-do list. Picking up and dish-washing is done out of reflex, typically post-hangover.
Stage 3: Rental House
You want room, space, a yard. You’re probably cohabiting with someone at this point. It takes quite some time to figure out that one must actually MOW the grass on a regular basis, however.
Stage 4: First Home
In looking at your dwindling federal tax refund over the years, you finally figure out what everyone is on about with all this “deduction” talk. Just accept the fact that this will be an ill-advised purchase, no matter how long you wait to make it.
Stage 5: Land
After a few years of increasing disgust with your neighborhood (primarily due to the plethora of neighbors at Stage 3), you feel you must Get. Out. You desire space, elbow-room, LAND. You go all Green Acres and country-up, despite the utter lack of nearby Starbucks franchises and/or high-speed internet connections.
Stage 6: Trophy Condo/House
You can take the solitude (and eight hours it takes to mow the South Forty) no longer, and simply must have access to regular Venti Mochas. You sell your “haven” for a tidy profit and buy a sexy condo/house near a major metropolitan center.
Stage 7: Retirement
Those damned neighborhood kids have finally tap-danced on your last nerve, and you’re heading for quieter pastures. A small bungalow on the nearest lake/golf course is just what the doctor ordered, and there you will live our your days until one day you plug the cat into the light socket and your children decide you need full-time supervision.
It’s kind of comforting to have it all mapped out, no?