YOU CAN'T GO HOME, PT. 34

In the nearly 10 years we've been married, I've joked that we keep moving into increasingly depressing places. First, we lived in a cool, surprisingly hip loft-style apartment in a renovated 110-year-old warehouse. Then we moved to one of the few high-rise apartments in Arlington that overlooked something other than another high rise. Then came the nice but generic townhouse adjoining the world's scariest grocery store, followed by the swank 70s monument to stucco and earth tones we currently call home.

Well, this is what's apparently happened to place # 2. We hear the rats have reclaimed the backyard of place #3, and the owner of place #1 apparently went bankrupt years ago. Still, though, this takes the cake.

It's fun being downwardly mobile.