At least then, I wouldn't have to read sickening real estate writeups for nearby houses like this one:
Sunday Morning: Enjoying the Post or the NY Times over a leisurely cup of coffee, sitting in the sunroom. The butterflies are enjoying the shade garden outside, and all is right with the world. You have no worries - your all brick house is old enough to have hardwood floors on main and bedroom levels and mature landscaping with big trees, but all the renovations have already been done. Yesterday you played golf on the adjacent golf course, and this evening you're meeting friends at the Reston Town Center for dinner and an outdoor concert under the stars. Isn't this the way you've always wanted to live?
Wow, that sounds great -- never mind that the asking price is roughly one astronomical order of magnitude beyond what we paid for our own abode that's "old enough to have hardwood floors" (not to mention shiny wallpaper). Of course, our own writeup would have a few minor changes. First, instead of "enjoying the Post or the NY Times," we'd mention "the onomatopoetic classic Mr. Brown Can Moo and reruns of Spongebob Squarepants." For "leisurely cup of coffee," subsitute "hurried swig of room-temperature Diet Coke." For "butterflies," substitute "annoyingly metaphorical cicadas," and for "mature landscaping with big trees," add the phrase "which creak in the slightest breeze and lean menacingly towards your roof." Instead of talking about "the adjacent golf course," make some snide comment about our stunning lake view, and for the part about "this evening," add something about meeting friends at a swank Reston eatery for nuggets and an indoor performance by the local SWAT team.
There goes the neighborhood.