You guys are gonna f***ing hate me. I found a house that costs more than my childhood trauma therapy bills. It’s $1.3 million, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and located right in the magical land of the Pink Streets of St. Pete—where the sidewalks are pink, the HOA is strict, and the neighbors definitely judge your Amazon packages.
Now, please share this with your rich friends. Not the ones who Venmo you $6.27 for their share of bottomless mimosas, I mean the ones who refer to “Q4” in casual conversation and somehow own a boat named Liquid Assets.
