Go home. I can't.

I know I should not fall prey to commenting on New York times articles, at least the nimrods who are often profiled in "The Hunt" column of the real estate section, but these people really infuriated me.

WHY are you living in New York City, if what you are after is "tomblike silence" ? You are paying $10k to outfit your new three-quarters-of-a-million dollar condo in soundproof windows because you cannot stand noise? You bought on Atlantic Avenue, you are idiots, plural, both of you, so please move away.

Is my bitterness peeking through? That is because my husband and I are looking to relocate. The bitter comes from growing up in Queens and not being able to afford anything save a one-bedroom co-op across from where my parents live in the far northeastern reaches of Queens, where I grew up and spent most of my teenage years stoned on a corner, whining about how suburban it was. When I was 16, I used to scan the Village Voice classifieds at lunchtime and know I could totally afford the East Village with my hourly wage from the Hallmark store in Bayside. Then I went away to college, came back, and everyone else beat me to it. Bitter? I call it rage.

Rage that I cannot afford to live and raise a family in the same place I grew up. I think all that whining made me a stronger person and would gladly subject my children to the same thing. But that won't happen. New York City is out-of-control, crowded, policed, insane and too goddamned expensive. From Riverdale to Tottenville, these asshats from Ohio (sorry, but it is ALWAYS Ohio) are traipsing in, buying it up, and declaring it awesome. Staten Island was never cool, that was the point. That kept the balance on people who grew up and work here, so they had a place to go when they wanted kids. I have no idea where all our policeman and teachers and sanit guys live. I really don't.