In the astonishing and hard to believe category - the house I grew up in and that features in all three Kritzer books, which my father paid just under 10,000 bucks for sometime in the mid-1940s (prior to my birth certainly and most likely prior to my brother's, before 1944 - the house was built in 1938 and maybe they even got it when it was new. The last price it sold for was 36,000 bucks so that had to be in the mid 1970s or thereabouts, maybe even towards the end of that decade, since the neighborhood was terrible in those days. The same people apparently still live there, since there's been no sales listed since. Today, the estimate for the house is 1.3 million dollars. I mean, if the absurdity of that isn't perfectly clear, nothing ever will be. It's listed as a three-bedroom two bathroom house. That means they had to turn what was our den into a bedroom. There are only six rooms in the entire house - a dining room (unless they turned THAT into a bedroom), a tiny kitchen and porch area, a living room, and what they call the three bedrooms - that's IT, all 1600 sq. feet of it - 1.3 MILLION dollars. The world has gone completely insane as have the idiots who would actually pay that, because ANYONE who would pay that would then tear it down and spend ANOTHER two million to construct a monstrosity. How does anyone live in Los Angeles anymore.
