there are some places that come under the "nice place to visit, but i wouldn't want to live there" category-- london is on that list of temporary residences, and detroit is definitely only a "drive-thru-late-at-night-lost-in-the-wrong-neighborhood-when-the-petrol-light-comes-on-indicating-you-are-about-to-run-on-fumes-until-a-front-tyre-hits-one-of-the-many-potholes-on-a-street-inhabited-by-people-who-probably-wouldn't-be-thinking-about-giving-a-blonde-with-an-accent-driving-a-mazda-with-california-plates-and-two-bikes-on-the-roof-directions-to-the-nearest-shell-station".
one of the advantages of "just visiting" status, for the perpetually non-comitted, is that there is no one else's flowery wallpaper preferences to wrestle and swear off the wall, no swollen or blackened feet from sweeping/scouring/scrubbing/soliciting grime, grease and dog hair accumulated over 30 years, no cigarette butts circa. the original star wars movie to dislodge from windowsills, no peanut shells haphazardly scattered in closets, no random cans of budweiser deposited around like an easter hunt designed for the alchoholic redneck, no nails the size of knitting needles to yank, pry, pull and tease from the wall (many walls), no parrot shit (apparently ingested with a tube of krazy glue) pebble dashed to any porous surface, no generations of neanderthal dust bunnies to excavate and exhume from behind the radiator (as well as random bottles of windex, empty loo rolls and scratch off lottery stubs), no chewing gum from michael jackson's "thriller" era bonded beneath the kitchen counter, no dicing, slicing and stuffing into a black rubbish bag of the many limbs from an out of control house plant to dispose of, at an undisclosed location (unpaved country road) after dark, no bleach fumes to bring on a migraine headache the proportions maternal guilt induces or to dilate the capillaries in your eyeballs to a lovely shade of magma.
and who needs to waste money on overpriced blinds at pier 1 when there is overgrown foliage over the windows rivalling sleeping beauty's castle, to keep searing UV rays out of your living room?
unfortunately, even i am now beginning to acknowledge the 'just like your mother' size 3 obsessive-compulsive footsteps that are inevitable- right about the time i caught myself spraying clorox onto the skirting board.