Just As I Thought

Location, location, location

Today after my conference ended, I took a few hours to explore Phoenix. First, I discovered that I can afford a very, very nice house here, with a pool. Of course, I would have to find a job here that would pay the same wages…

Today after my conference ended, I took a few hours to explore Phoenix. First, I discovered that I can afford a very, very nice house here, with a pool. Of course, I would have to find a job here that would pay the same wages…
Then, lunch at the Arizona Biltmore hotel. Gorgeous! A hotel in the style of Frank Lloyd Wright, with manicured croquet lawns and a giant outdoor chess board. It’s odd that on the driveway up to the hotel there are many multi-million dollar houses, which are not only ostentatious and out of scale (gaudy fountains and over-sized doors) but which are not nearly as good looking at the $199,000 house I found for sale that is actually in my price range.
It’s so strange to know that my small townhouse just outside Washington, DC is more valued than a house more than twice it’s size in Gilbert, Arizona. In the end, what the Realtors® say is right: Location, location, location. That’s the only thing that really drives the price of housing – not the number of bedrooms, baths, and the size of the pool, but WHERE those things are located. I’m beginning to realize how lucky I was to have stumbled across my house, which because of it’s location has become an enormous investment. Even if being so close to the Pentagon means I can’t get terrorism insurance – well, if a terrorist attack hits my house, I have more to worry about than how I will replace my furniture and computer.
This segued strangely into a terrorism thing, didn’t it?

I started to keep water and supplies in my downstairs closet, just in case. A few months ago I opened the closet and was amazed to find that the two gallon jugs of water I had put there were empty. I was puzzled, curious, indignant, and annoyed. I put my hand down, and found the carpet just slightly moist – a tiny pinhole in the bottom of the plastic jug meant that over a period of 6 months or so, all the water had drained out drop by drop. Not enough to make the floor wet, but just slightly damp.
As we move farther away from September 11 and there are no longer missile launchers on street corners, I haven’t replaced my small water supply. I’ve lived all my life in a spot where there are rarely any natural disasters and never an interruption of basic utility services, so it simply doesn’t occur to me that such a thing could ever happen. The thing is, you see, I actually realize that this fallacy is ridiculous; but so many others don’t realize their innocence.
I need to go get some more supplies when I get home.

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