Spend a Quarter of a Million Dollars on Sushi and Martinis
We're looking to buy a house.
Now, the good-sense part of me thinks that it's wise to find a place out near the office. The problem is, the office is right under Stone Mountain. It's a suburb. There's not a whole lot out there aside from strip malls and Wal-Mart. It's the sort of place I claw my eyes out to get away from. For the longest time, one of the great parts about going to work was that, when I was done for the day, I could head home into The City.
Now, though, with Baby Girl, I do different things in The CIty than I used to. I don't need the nightclubs (as much) and I don't go to the bars as frequently as I used to. Schools are better out near the office -- I have to consider the quality of neighborhood schools now.
Being in the city has its own distinct advantages, though. On an emotional level, you're always right there, always a part of something. You can walk to everything, from the park to the grocery store to the local to a restaurant. Out in the suburbs, you have to drive everywhere, and by "everywhere," I mean Chili's and Blockbuster, because that's all there is.
So I keep looking around for stuff in The City. The above elitist tirade notwithstanding, marketing materials for in-town locations make it look pretty shallow and deplorable. The community information always features a variety of staged shots of jubilant young thirtysomethings -- symbols of success, of course -- in various states of mock gaiety. Hey, look, three of you can enjoy sushi! Thirtysomethings have martinis, right? Get together and drink some martinis! Purchase a name-brand designer product in our sleek, mixed-use environment! Use your wi-fi laptop at a modern coffe shop! Place your boxy furniture at rakish angles! You're sassy yet professional, accomplished yet hip. You're not like those poor schmucks out in the doldrum-- er, suburbs! You're urban, witty, and suave!
Just like the mannequins look.
Maybe I just don't like anything. An old curmudgeon.
Now, the good-sense part of me thinks that it's wise to find a place out near the office. The problem is, the office is right under Stone Mountain. It's a suburb. There's not a whole lot out there aside from strip malls and Wal-Mart. It's the sort of place I claw my eyes out to get away from. For the longest time, one of the great parts about going to work was that, when I was done for the day, I could head home into The City.
Now, though, with Baby Girl, I do different things in The CIty than I used to. I don't need the nightclubs (as much) and I don't go to the bars as frequently as I used to. Schools are better out near the office -- I have to consider the quality of neighborhood schools now.
Being in the city has its own distinct advantages, though. On an emotional level, you're always right there, always a part of something. You can walk to everything, from the park to the grocery store to the local to a restaurant. Out in the suburbs, you have to drive everywhere, and by "everywhere," I mean Chili's and Blockbuster, because that's all there is.
So I keep looking around for stuff in The City. The above elitist tirade notwithstanding, marketing materials for in-town locations make it look pretty shallow and deplorable. The community information always features a variety of staged shots of jubilant young thirtysomethings -- symbols of success, of course -- in various states of mock gaiety. Hey, look, three of you can enjoy sushi! Thirtysomethings have martinis, right? Get together and drink some martinis! Purchase a name-brand designer product in our sleek, mixed-use environment! Use your wi-fi laptop at a modern coffe shop! Place your boxy furniture at rakish angles! You're sassy yet professional, accomplished yet hip. You're not like those poor schmucks out in the doldrum-- er, suburbs! You're urban, witty, and suave!
Just like the mannequins look.
Maybe I just don't like anything. An old curmudgeon.