I read the filings so you don’t have to, which is good because these filings read like a choose-your-own-adventure where every page ends in escrow.

Documents say Fed Governor Lisa Cook called a condo a second home, and the economy immediately asked if it could at least keep its toothbrush there for weekends and rate announcements.

Economists rushed to define “second home,” settling on: a dwelling where your soul pays PMI but your suitcase does not. The IRS replied by quietly doing a crossword puzzle labeled “intent.”

On Wall Street, analysts issued a new rating: Primary-ish Buy, Secondary Hold, Tertiary Scream Into Throw Pillow. Futures rose on the hope that a second home is where inflation goes to think about what it’s done.

I interviewed the condo, which identifies as “investment property on weekdays, cozy nest on earnings calls.” It produced a second-home occupancy affidavit kit and whispered, “Please sign on the doormat.”

To verify status, I ran the math through a mortgage interest deduction calculator. It blinked 12:00, sighed, and asked if I’d considered moving into a sensible spreadsheet.

The footnotes are where the plot does cardio: Section 4(b) states, “For purposes of residency, the state of mind may contain multistate disclaimers.” My state of mind replied, “Same.”

There’s a physics lesson here: First home is position, second home is velocity, third home is jerk. Monetary policy is currently waltzing with acceleration while pretending it only knows a light foxtrot.

In a move to increase transparency, the Fed will release the Beige Book: Home Edition—taupe on the cover, eggshell in the margins, and a scratch-and-sniff insert that smells like amortization and confidence.

Reporters asked if something is a second home when you set the thermostat remotely but your pet thinks you died. Officials clarified the test: if the Roomba recognizes you and doesn’t call you “Guest,” it’s a home.

Meanwhile, regular Americans continue renting their first, second, and emotional homes from a landlord named ‘Market Conditions,’ who only accepts payment in cash, compliance, and leftover guacamole.

As for me, I’ll keep reading footnotes until the story shows its math and the math shows mercy. And on this rare Friday, I’ll allow myself one joke: these “one-time” classifications keep returning annually, like a holiday fruitcake that insists it lives here now—strictly as a second home.