I rent. There, I said it. As more and more friends sign the closing papers and put down roots, I remain transient, a dandelion seed drifting over their landscaped lawns. Sometimes this makes me feel like a failure at adulthood. Other times I look around and breathe a sigh of renter’s relief. I can pick up and go anytime, without worrying about market value. Plus, it’s nice to have someone else deal with leaks, pests, and jiggly doorknobs. Liberty, mobility, and someone to complain to: This is the American Dream.
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