D.C. Housing, Part Deux
In preparation for finals, and knowing I have plenty of schoolwork to be completed, I stayed in this past Friday night, planning to make some serious headway on an economics paper. A bag of kettle corn-flavored popcorn, two mugs of apple cider, one-third of the way further through Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and Ice Worlds and Seasonal Forests episodes of Planet Earth all consumed, my eyelids were falling shut.
Saturday brings with it new promise, I suppose. In the morning, I was talking to my housemate while walking down the treacherous flight of stairs to my basement abode. My socked foot slipped off one of the metal treads, and I nearly went crashing down the whole flight. Said housemate then told me the gory history of the house; how soon after it was built, the D.C. banker who lived there fell down those same stairs and suffered a massive stroke as a result. He lived the next 20 years of his life mostly bedridden, paralyzed and nursed full-time by his wife, until his passing.
Yet another reason I have low rent.
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