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I thought my mother's first reaction to my new place was going to be, "It's too dangerous to live there!" but it turned out she actually said, "You bought a what?" because she misheard me.

"A warehouse, Mom."

"Ahh. My God, I thought you said 'whorehouse'."

"Muh-ther!"

My mother did eventually get to the part about where that said warehouse is located, but by then she was so relieved I wasn't suddenly a Lady of the Evening that she forgot to harp on it.

Yes, the warehouse isn't in the best neighborhood, but there aren't any warehouses in the rich sections of the city, even if I could afford to live there. Living in a warehouse is much more secure than anything else, though. It has industrial doors and industrial windows and it doesn't look like much so people mostly ignore it. I, however, thought it was beautiful, and it is big.

There are three floors, and I don't live on the first floor at all. I have a freight elevator that I take up to the second floor where I keep all my junk under paint tarps. The best part is that I can ride my bike right into my apartment and never have to carry it! Yeah, I traded off having an actual kitchen, but that will come.