Above is a Sims 4 representation of my first four apartments. The first was Bradford St. but it was extremely temporary, lasting only a few months. I got wrangled into sharing an apartment located only about four blocks away from my parents home. I wasn't even enthusiastic about this move since during this time things were pretty decent at my parents. But my friends talked me into it and I moved in soon after graduation. Before the summer was over, all "four" of my other roommates had abandoned the joint and I was left to be the bearer of the bad news to the landlord. No sweat, I was glad to be back at my parents house to enjoy daily lounging by the pool before the weather got too cold.
My first solo apartment was soon after the "big fist fight" with my dad. Having secured full time employment, a car and an indignant attitude all within a few months, it was time to snag my first real apartment just before my 20th birthday in April 1984. Though the address was "Park Avenue" it was far from the luxurious digs ala Monopoly. Roaches, leaky pipes, 1970s paneling (which was quite out-of-fashion by 1984) and grumpy, rough-edged, and nosy neighbors, I was livin' the bachelor pad life in the ghetto. But it was furnished, all utilities included and only $80 a week. (Which in hindsight was probably a ripoff when considering what average rents were going for back then.)
Weary of the inconvenient commute options available between Woonsocket and Pawtucket after getting the job at Blackstone Valley in mid-1986, I moved to a sixth floor apartment in East Providence, a mush easier distance to drive back and forth to. My first experience in "community" living. It too was a bit of a ghetto and to make matters worse, I made too much at the rate of $7/hour to qualify for Section 8 rent which many other tenants were under. I paid market rates which amounted to almost $400/month in 1986 eventually rising to near $500 by 1990. I don't have good luck with rental rates.
Broke, unemployed and car-less, I borrowed my dad's Duster for a few months and moved back to Woonsocket for the start of Black Winter in December of 1990. This ratty little attic apartment had everything one could hope for. Depression, anxiety, full-blown alcoholism and a overbearing, judgmental and spying landlord who lived right below me. Oh what fun Logee St. was.