Why The Suburbs Are The Worst

Levittown, New York is the birthplace of sprawling suburbia…apparently.

I have done the unthinkable.

Allow me to explain. 2013 has been…interesting and has seen me slightly removed from my comfort zone. Slightly. The result? The unthinkable. I have done what I swore to myself I wouldn’t—become a lemming in this sleepy government town. I bought a home. In the suburbs. The horror.

I had my reasons, like others do for doing the things that they do, for doing what I did. I love my humble abode, just not its surroundings. Row upon row upon row of houses, identical in nature and lacking in character. People watching, my favourite pass time while living in Ottawa’s beloved Centretown, has become the equivalent to a model landing a Vogue cover—nearly non-existent. The shops of Mom & Pop are—no longer a brisk walk—a loooooong car ride away. My daily inspiration, whatever that means, cannot be found in my surroundings but through my computer screen. For shame. Solidifying my further isolation since moving to the suburbs: my cell phone reception’s refusal to go beyond one bar, often searching for service and finding nothing. NOTHING. Leaving me to stand in varying corners of my condo, waiting patiently (read: bitterly) for that text to send. With my inability to connect wherever and with whomever while at home, my disdain for suburban life grows stronger with each dropped call, every unrefreshed social feed and inability to quickly send and receive SMSs from the iPhone-less.

Alas, how does one survive such atrocities?

Before I made my decision to buy and move, I did weigh the pros and cons. Ultimately financial reasons were the catalyst; the old argument of building equity blah, blah, blah…but I’m thinking rematch. I’m still not sold on the benefits of home ownership and the upfront and lingering hidden costs that go along with it…

I miss shoe shopping.

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