Why not buy a house? It's what adults do, right? Nothing screams ‘I’ve made it!’ like a three-bedroom with an open kitchen.
At the sales office, the salesperson has his charm cranked up to ten. He shows me glossy brochures with happy families in perfect homes.
The amenities are out of a dream – a club with a shimmering pool where I could finally learn how to swim, a movie theater perfect for smuggling in my own popcorn, and a tennis court for uncovering my hidden athleticism. I think to myself, "Yes, this is it. This is what's been missing in my life!"
Then the cost sheet comes out, and I briefly lose consciousness. I swear I've never seen so many commas in a number before. As I hesitantly sign on the dotted line, the salesman grins widely. “Look at that,” he says, pointing at me then to the house, “Congratulations!” For a moment, I’m not sure who he’s congratulating – me for owning the house, or the house for owning me.