Living With ‘Call of Duty’-Obsessed Neighbors, Leaky Roofs, and More

I can safely say I’ve never had a bad roommate, which has led me to the natural conclusion that I must be the terrible one to live with.

On Living The Dream, And Living To Regret It (Sort Of)

I longed to trade my two hour commute for a fifteen minute bike ride. I imagined the adobe cabin we could live in, surrounded by desert emptiness.

When Paradise Is Home

$10 would get us a plate lunch with meat, mac salad, and rice, everything we needed to keep us going. At night, my friends and I would walk up and down Waikiki strip, pretending to be tourists and laughing as we were catcalled roaming the shopping malls.

A Catalog of My Worst Apartment Hunts

Having lived in New York City for nearly a decade (in six separate residences), I’m convinced that the only variety of New York apartment hunt is the soul-crushingly terrible one.

Near a Drug Front in Montreal, a Two-Bedroom in L.A. With Five People, and Other Places I’ve Lived

In Montreal, many apartments are floors of a former single-family home, and have stairs on the outside as a result. Our landlord liked to perch on this staircase, literally right outside of my window, and argue with various contractors.

Better(ish) Living With Roommates

I have only lived alone once, and it was not by choice. When I was a senior in college, my boyfriend broke up with me over the phone from San Diego, saddling me with a lovely studio apartment with an eat-in kitchen, lots of sun, and a rent payment that I couldn’t really afford. I paid my rent using a loan that I am still most likely paying off, and spent a lot of that long winter marooned on my bed eating frozen grapes and watching the Food Network, since I refused to cancel the expensive cable. I lived there for the whole year, alone, but was too sulky to appreciate what I had.

My Tin-Roofed Outbuilding in Dar es Salaam

In Dar es Salaam, Tanzania’s largest city and de facto capital, $500 a month will get you a little room in a tin-roofed outbuilding. You’ll get above-average electricity, too. “Above average,” because you can expect frequent blackouts in Dar—that’s why most expats and well-off Tanzanians have standby generators. My studio doesn’t have a standby generator, but it is hooked into the electrical system of nearby Muhimbilli National Hospital. I don’t know how or why we get to siphon off their power, but the government does a pretty good job pumping watts into Muhimbilli. Even now, as the long dry season transitions into the short rains, and there’s no water in the hydroelectric dams.

Madison Is A Great Small City, Unless You’re Black

Madison won’t tell you how many hundreds of people touched my hair in the twenty-three years I lived there without asking first and called it “neat.”

In Defense of Small Cheap Cities

Living in Hartford, I still see art and music, and I get to live in a city, and my rent is about one third of what I would pay for an equivalent apartment in Brooklyn.

The Cost of Being a Salmon Swimming Upstream

In mid-October I packed up my entire adult life and shlepped it south on I-95. This is what that cost me.