Bad wake-up dream

 The teeny apartment in my dream had a very small balcony overlooking the street.

So if you were the husband of my paramour, I could see you walking from your parked car to the little apartment bungalow.
Awkward warning! Wake up!
So I did.
And I tried to hold onto the last snatches of the dream, the green lawns bordering the sidewalk, the cute slanted roofs I was next to, the three inches (or so) of private outdoor space.

According to the internet, I can't afford to live in the US. 
Not alone, anyway.

Not to rant or be preachy. but.....

You want less homeless? (Hmm??!)
Lower the $μίσθωμα! rents!!
Lowering the price of food you opportunistically raised the price of over four years is a way different rant, but geez.

Me, I've always wanted to retire to some incredibly flammable shack in a desert-type state, where tumbleweeds blow and the AC is on 24/7

Classless society my butt
Low-rent=Low life?
My quest for a cheapo apartment continues

The rants in my head aren't worth writing about...

But.

Location = lifestyle.
Do you talk with a southern drawl?
Do you wear the right hat.
I hate hats, no accent I know of.
Sticking out like a sore thumb.
Do neighbors talk loudly in a different language when you happen by?
(that isn't just me, is it?)

Does one particular girl (the insane one) live close by?
The one that knocks at 2am, laughs loudly (to be mean), mistaken identity. The original guy died (or moved far far away from her)

So rent is secondary to crime, insane people, mean people, it's a long list.
do they have a 24/7 supermarket, and a drug store?

I'm being too picky, I know.
O well.