Life in the hood

Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a fancy condo in North Scottsdale with a raised bed garden, a beautiful pool, a fireplace, and her own washer and dryer.  She loved her five minute commute to work (15 on a road bike) and her spacious "ritzy" home.  However, after a few years living in such a lovely home she realized that the comfort and convenience of such a home could not replace the need she had to be in a social area with a social roommate.  After some soul searching and some research, she moved further south into a less spacious condo.

She felt she had made the right decision (her social life did improve) but it didn't take her long to realize she was no longer living in a posh retirement community.  It might have been the geyser sprinkler system.  It might have been the roaches or the pigeon plague.  It might have been that homocide that happened two doors down from her condo (All just speculation).  Either way, she fully acknowledged that she had moved into "the Ghetto".

In truth, having a home in a ghetto didn't seem to have a huge impact on her day to day life.  Her neighbors were friendly (the family who lived in the home where the homocide happened promptly moved out of the complex).  There were always kids laughing and running around as young hooligans usually do.  There was an owl friend who roosted nearby her town house who she lovingly nicknamed "David the Goblin King" (he flew away forever and broke her heart, but that's a story for another day).  It had a functional air conditioner (the one thing her ritzy condo consistently seemed to lack).  She realized that with some roach traps and a pile of quarters for the machine washers, her home was still spacious, her social life much more fulfilling, and she was indeed happy living in the hood.

Then, she made a discovery.  Through a series of semi complicated events she found herself back in her old neighborhood standing outside her fancy condo talking to her old neighbor.  Turns out after she vacated her old place, the next tenants that leased were drug lords.  They had set up shop and started making drugs in her old home.  Things were finally over a group of black SWAT vans appeared with 40 officers who proceeded to clean the place out.  Needless to say the old neighbor bemoaned the fact that the girl had ever moved out because things had gone to pieces since then.

At this moment she realized that sometimes you move to the ghetto but even when you don't, sometimes the ghetto will come find you anyways.  Its pretty likely that those drug lords would have moved into the same complex whether or not that particular unit had been open.  Well, that's a wrap.