Somehow, I grew up in the one neighborhood in the city that hasn’t had a spike in value in the last couple of decades. My mom refuses to move out to a retirement community (at this point she would need assisted living). She likes to talk about improving the property and what color she should paint the upstairs. Watches flipper shows all day.

I don’t have the heart to tell her that I have no interest in inheriting the property and that it will be a huge burden to liquidate all of the ‘antiques’ she has gathered over the last 80 years that now stink of cat piss and many colors of mold.

She’s always been there for me in my darkest hours, though, and so has that shit mid century ranch.

I’ll still let her win at Wheel of Fortune, as long as she can remember my name.