So the big thing now is these dinky little houses. I'm just going to come right out and say that if I had to, as in, my house burned down and the insurance had lapsed and nobody would take me in had to, I could live in one of these things for about 2.1 hours. I could. I think.
But seriously, day in, day out in a house that can be as small as 65 square feet? And what about that chump who built one, but his wife can't live in it with him? I gotta say, I would punch someone in the crotchal area if he built a 65 square foot house and then told me I couldn't live in it. I'd be like, "Fine! Go to your stupid little closet." BAM! The fact that this woman didn't (deduced from the fact that no mention was made of the man being a high talker or anything), tells me that there's clearly something wrong with her. A house with no room for my shoes, or pots and pans? Ok. But no room for me either? Fuggedaboutit.
Really, though, this is a sad commentary on our economy if suddenly living in a shack is the de rigeur thing to do. It's a slippery slope, I say, one that will eventually head to articles on CNN about where to get the best refrigerator box to live in, and the best alleyways to live in.
We are three steps from hobodom, we are. Take note.