Architecturally Sound?

I.  Author’s Note:  Let’s Get Comfortable
I’m revisiting a topic, because finding a settlement is an important thing.  Also, let’s face it, in less than six months, I’ll be turning 30.  It’s time to take another step to settle down, and this includes finding a proper residence.  It’s idealistic to not live with roommates for the rest of your life; sure it may be inexpensive, but let’s face it:  the only roommates you should be expecting/anticipating are your significant other with your kids and/or animals; however, that is all when that decision time comes.  College life was a blast, and the first couple post-college years were a great time.  In life, you should be having fun; however, life isn’t/should-not-be party central.  Evolution is a slow process, and it all starts with self-awareness or self-evolution:  growing up.  I could go on with saying that so-called God created us in order for us to evolve, but that’s mixing oil and water, and that is a whole other topic to stray off into. 
These are my beliefs–you don’t have to agree with them–there should come a time in a person’s life where they ask themselves (numerous times for numerous occasions):  What the fuck am I doing?  This may not be your terminology, but we’re being honest here, folks.  I am talking about that ultimate realization, which really has no words to describe it.  In the end, you are looking out for El Numero Uno:  yourself.  Do you want to associate with these people (Y/N)?  If I get/adopt this animal, will I take responsibility for it (Y/N)?  Do you think you can date this person (Y/N), move in with them (Y/N), get married to them (Y/N), start a family with them (Y/N), and be with them and your family–through thick and thin–for the rest of your days on this ill-fated planet (Y/N)?  Can I afford this (Y/N)?  Is this a wrong decision (Y/N)?  Should I stick this fork into the toaster in order to retrieve my stuck bagel (Y/N)?
You are always looking out for your best interest.  Period.
However, comfort always comes into play.  Everyone has tendency to do what is comfortable to them, whether it is a rational/irrational decision.  You hop into a routine, but it gets comfortable.  You’re dating someone, and it gets comfortable.  You live somewhere, and it gets comfortable.  You may not love your job, but it gets comfortable.  As lovely as the word comfortable is, it has some pretty nasty associations.  It’s a double-edged sword, perhaps? 
II.  Tipp Hill Versus Strathmore:  A Lesson Learned
That’s why it is tough with a roommate situation:  you get comfortable, because it’s inexpensive and easy.  Everyone has their routine, and it will get to a point where it is conducive with everyone else’s pattern.  It evolves, that comfort.  As great as Tipperary Hill was, it was a shit show.  It got to the point where doing my dishes turned into doing others’ dishes, because I was tired of the mess.  We were in a three-bedroom, one-makeshift bedroom, and one bathroom apartment.  However, six people is a crowd.
Yes.  At one point, there were six people staying at the apartment.  One slept on the couch, which extended months longer than anticipated.  Everyone disliked each other, but I stayed away from the place as much as possible.  That avoidance angered some people, because I primarily ate at the place  and slept in my bed.  I worked three jobs and seven days a week, so my schedule was messed up to begin with.  However, when I dropped the two part-time jobs, I began to see the light of freedom. 
Another instance:  when I was dating this girl a handful of years back, she left me for someone else, and I (temporarily), because of the situation as a whole, lost my faith in hopeless romance (throw some big, fat air quotes around that).  Upon returning home, a party was taking place.  I pull myself together before I walk in and say hello.  I clearly was not myself, not cheery, and I was asked to join.  I admitted that I wasn’t feeling up to it, and was considering just reading in my bedroom.  The roommate and his friend asked again, pushing in a sense;  I say I’m sorry upon declining.  I hear that roommate and his friend saying something about me, hypothetically asking what my problem was and saying I need to grow up. 
I didn’t tell them that my relationship was over.  Granted the relationship was a few months, but I was invested.  It was none of their business.  I toss my things on my bed before I turn and open the door.  I asked, “Did you know that I can hear you?”  Not waiting for an answer, begin to lay into them how I didn’t like my jobs, how I was exhausted, and the situation which just took place did not put me in the partying mood.  I told his friend that if he didn’t like my refusal to hang out, that he could leave.  I lived here, too; ergo, respect me as a person.  I shut the door with force.  It was a door you couldn’t really slam, so I closed it most of the way before shutting it hard with my palm.  What happens next? The roommate kicks the door in, and it almost hits my person. 
I threw my pie of frustration, topped a la mode with a  few salty words.
The months living there turned into four years, and my gradual interest subsided.  The already quarantine-qualified and obnoxiously-painted bathroom eroded on a daily basis, and I grew tired of being the one to clean/bleach the hell out of the place.  Dishes and pots piled up, and cleaning those were not going to be my responsibility.  I was in a relationship, so my time was spent at my better half’s apartment:  the place where I actually cooked and the place was well-managed. 
Now, a couple years have passed as I now find myself living in a different part of the city.  Granted, I am back to the roommate situation.  However, the occupants can be counted on one hand.  The place is tidy for three guys who are constantly on the go.  Everyone greets one another with a smile and a hello, not a grunt.  Plus, no one is kicking doors in, throwing objects, punching their fists through the walls, tackling another down the stairway, and whatever nonsense had taken place before.
I find it, also, fitting that these other gents share the same name, Mike, and we are all practically the same age.  Both Mikes have distinct personalities:  athlete to artist, complimenting and motivating the two essential parts of my personality.
It works out very well. 
III.  Expectations
The only problem now is facing the facts and reality that nothing is supposed to be constant.  We’re all going to move on one day, and who knows when opportunity is going to show its face.  Like a businessman, you’re always willing to sell your business when a fair amount of years have gone by the right price is offered for the established business.  A friend’s father mentioned that one time back in high school.  The concept stuck with me for some reason.
However, the housing market is still very buyer-friendly, interest rates are low, and this kind of investment–sooner than later–would not be a bad idea.  It’s a consideration, but I am nervous to send in that loan application, which is currently collecting dust as it sits upon my dresser. 
The only problem is finding that perfect size and location–and affordability–for my person.  I need to keep in mind the future of what it is to come.  What if I move?  What if I have to find another job, or take on another job?  I am honestly looking for a challenge. If the house needs updates, I will gladly do them.  I will avoid those unmotivated slumps that we fall into.  Don’t say that there hasn’t been multiple times where you have put things off.  The house would be mine, and I know I would have a great time making it my very own.
Taking on such projects will only help me learn to be more handy, a necessary added bonus.  I know my father, now retired, would be willing to help me.  I don’t ask much from my parents, but I know he would insist, and I would appreciate his help. 
Would I consider suburbs?  Possibly.  City?  Leaning toward that direction.  I am/would be looking for a place with uniqueness, and not necessarily convenience.  A nice Victorian in the city, away from the crime-filled centers, would be a plus.  Even a house, which is aesthetically cookie-cutter, with just one certain unique aspect would satisfy my eclectic taste.  I just want to say, “Yeah, this is my house. However, you HAVE to check this out.” 
Haunted would be a perk.  Don’t look at me like that.  I’m serious. I wouldn’t mind a little ghost hanging around.  It would be one of those unique aspects.  I am not looking for a pissy, irritable ghost.  I am looking for one who wouldn’t mind showing its presence, or have a sarcastic sense of humor.  Don’t throw things across the room, easily make them soar through the air and land safely. 
That’s not too much to ask.  Just don’t mess with me, because I’ll bring a war, you dead and invisible bastard.

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