I'm in a dire mood after spending the night browsing real-estate listings. Who says this market isn't a bubble? And more to the point, why do only millionaires deserve to live in neighborhoods where they're not in imminent danger of catching a drive-by standing in their own kitchens? I didn't think I had any faith in humanity left by this point, but househunting on a middle-class budget is quickly crushing whatever tiny sparks of optimism I still had about the possibility of this country not turning into Brazil within my lifetime. I was already in my spring another-year-older-and-nothing-to-show-for-it funk, but this process is not helping...
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