I turned down an apartment-something I have never done in my life-because I realized I didn't want to live there. It was a nice studio between Harvard and Porter Squares. It was fully furnished-it even had a tiny TV (which I would never watch) and a tiny washer and dryer in the unit.
But I realized that I didn't want to live there. It was sterile. It would be like living in a hotel room. So I turned it down. On the hope of something better. I must be crazy. Or sane. I haven't decided which yet.