I can sympathise with this story of Steven Levitt’s.
Once, when I was away at boarding school, my mum had a break-in. Apparently, the cops were going through the house afterwards, they got to my room and went "Well, they’ve been through here". My mum poked her head in the door and said "Nope, this is how it usually is."
Bad enough, right? Except that I always tidied my room before leaving for school, so by my definition that room was clean.
This may explain why, despite repeat requests, I haven’t yet sent my nephews photos of my apartment. That feeling is shame.
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