Because this list doesn't include places I've lived where I didn't really have a street address--two dorms and my little two-room place in Gambia.
  1. Academy St.
    Shithole first apartment in college. A roach motel. We broke two vacuum cleaner belts in one weekend on the shag carpet in the living room. My parents were horrified by this place and it was my stupid decision to live there so I felt like I had to defend it even though I knew it was awful. My roommate's cats were cute but always got into the toilet paper and one of them peed in my duffle bag. Her boyfriend made mountains of cigarette butts in the ashtray and left me passive aggressive notes.
  2. Oakcrest St.
    I moved here with a roommate (who was a Gemini and I should have known better) after my mostly happy solo year on 6th Ave. She started a serious relationship with a guy in our graduate program I had gone on a few dates with the previous year. It didn't go anywhere but there was just enough history there to make it pretty awkward when they'd hole up in her room for hours on end and I didn't feel like I could function like a normal person in our small apartment.
  3. 6th Ave.
    First grad school apartment. I lived there with my college boyfriend for two years, feeling grown up and domestic and smug. Then we broke up and he moved out but it was too late to find a smaller place so I stayed. My parents felt bad about the break-up and helped me a little with rent. It took some time, but I learned to love living by myself that year.
  4. Hudson St.
    I lived alone here on the first floor of a two-story house after the Oakcrest debacle. When I saw it for the first time I didn't even look past the Craftsman-style brick fireplace in the living room. I probably only built two fires in the year I lived there, though, because the chimney wouldn't pull worth a damn and things got pretty smoky. I had a sweet little office, but I to walk through the bathroom to get there.
  5. William St.
    The first house I lived in with my then-boyfriend, now husband. He was a few years into his job and owned the place which was beyond impressive to me. It was a Sears kit ranch house with wood floors and sliding door closets, which we hated, so we took all of them off and left the closets open. We had two friends live in the basement at different times until it sustained a lot of water damage one spring. It was the house our dog Oscar and our daughter Eleanor were brought home to.
  6. Mankato Ave.
    My childhood home. A brick Cape Cod built in 1950. My second story bedroom had hardwood floors, cool slanty ceilings and the closet light went on when you opened the door. There was a stand of pine trees at the back of the yard that sufficed as a forest for make-believe as a kid.
  7. Ronalds St.
    My current home. I love it so much. It was built in 1913 and, miraculously, no one touched the woodwork. The first owner left his initials in staples in a support post in the basement. I'm pretty sure the woman who lived in the house before we did died in it, but she's not there (or if she is, she is at peace/likes us). We have a back staircase the kids love. Our bedroom looks out onto a beautiful tree I fear will be killed by emerald ash borers. My daughter Penny was born in this house.