NY Times revealed the pain and suffering behind owning a town house in the city. “Town House Living: The Untold Story” a gripping exposé of whiny ass rich folks who can’t do anything for themselves left me saying “WTF?”

The Manhattan town house owners interviewed complained of vertical living challenges and the fact that they actually had to maintain their own homes.

A 30 something couple had diaper changing stations installed on every floor and doubled up on kitchens, laundry rooms and espresso machines because they couldn’t handle the stairs. I wonder how much they pay for their gym membership.

One woman complained “You have no idea how much the garbage controls your life”. She spoke of the street people rifling through her trash leaving an “ungodly” mess. Another gentleman wakes up at (gasp) 6am three days a week to haul his own trash to the curb. And on top of that, he has to clean the front of his house. The horror.

A psychiatrist weighed in with “(vertical living) is isolating. It’s not conducive to people having a shared experience. You have to seek each other out.” Ok, I grew up in apartments. Trust me, I always envied my friends who grew up in town homes. They don’t seem to be unstable adults because of it.

My parents only ever lived in apartment buildings. I hated smelling other people’s bad cooking, hated hearing neighbors arguing and playing loud music, felt uncomfortable making eye contact (or not) with strangers in the elevator and in doorman buildings, felt uncomfortable having someone act polite to me because it was their job. As soon as I was old enough to move out, I rented or owned in 1-4 family town houses and never looked back.

Of course, I’m quite able to haul my own trash to the curb.