“A new life”, my mother announced, as we walked through the apartment she had picked. It was old, with worn carpeting, and smelled moldy. It had a decided 70's porn film feel to it, complete with a plastic stained glass wall for my sister's room, separating it from the living room. In my room, the walls were covered in a patchwork of shag carpeting. It was as hot as an oven in the summer and you could have stored fresh meat in it without spoiling in the winter. There was one dim light in the ceiling, and the windows were cracked in several places as well.
     A new life was all well and good, but it certainly wasn't an upgrade from the old one. I didn't let myself get too distressed by this turn of events. After all, how long could it las...

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