I recommend you get a house in an old neighborhood.
Not just a house in an old neighborhood. A house in an old neighborhood where the houses are close.
I know, you like your yard. Your field of fire. Your vestigial instinct to run to the cave if you see a predator approaching across the plain.
And who wants to take a crapshoot on neighbors who live that close? They might be meth heads, or something.
Actually, meth heads prefer the suburbs, too. They especially like their privacy. Their field of fire. Their vestigial instinct to run to the cave if they see a predator approaching.
Old neighborhoods are real neighborhoods. Communities. You may not know your neighbors, but you know what they do. And they know you know, because they know what you do, too. I’m not saying that there aren’t any secrets, but mostly, they’re the details, not the big stuff.
You need a front porch, so you can sit on your front porch and share a bottle of wine while the neighborhood kids kick their soccer balls and learn to ride their bikes. You need to be able to walk to the little corner store and buy a bag of tostadas and a forty, and an onion if you’ve unexpectedly run out.
You need to get rid of all that crap in your garage, and then you need to get rid of your garage, too. It’s not what you own, it’s what you do that’s makes you happy, and all that crap in your garage is holding you back. It’s psychic inertia is tugging on you like Jupiter’s gravity. Cut it loose. Set it free.
One of the things you’ll be able to get rid of is that 46 inch Husqvarna riding mower with the twenty-two horsepower Briggs and Stratton V-twin engine. Or maybe you can keep it to ride down to the little corner store.