I can't imagine living anywhere else in this area besides Ghent. Put me in a condo at the Beach, or a townhouse in *shudder* Chesapeake, and I would fail to thrive. My brain would slowly shrivel from the diet of lawn care tips and golfing anecdotes, like that guy who almost died from eating McDonald's for a year. I suspect my brain is shriveling anyway, from advancing age and puffy cheetos, and it doesn't need any help. Fortunately, I'm just losing peripheral faculties at the moment, such as the ability to remember the name of that guy on The Office who always looks at the camera, or what day trash is picked up. Soon enough I won't remember what number comes after 8, or how often a human being is supposed to shower, or why the Democrats are required to have a 60% majority in Congress to get any damn thing passed. Uh-oh. I think I may have reached that milestone.