Look, a hamlet for sale, cheap! Do you suppose it was abandoned because it took forever to make up its mind about anything and couldn’t commit to an action? ba-dum-CHING, y’all, that was a Shakespeare joke.
MIKE: “I like my apartment, but I don’t love it.” ESTER: “Have you ever loved an apartment?”
If young adults held out until we ourselves could afford down payments as well as closing costs, fees, and mortgage payments, far fewer of us would buy property. But let’s not pretend the system is fair.
My husband and I were responsible, tax-paying honor students, the kind of urban, young professionals accustomed to benefiting from, while simultaneously feeling guilty about, our hetero- and white privilege. This was probably the first significant time in our lives we had heard the word “No.”
In October 2012, my husband and I had established careers in our town, a down payment saved, and a big student loan and a truck paid off. We were ready to buy a house, and our lease was up, so we packed up our stuff and moved into a small apartment that came with a six-month lease that turned month-to-month.