domestic confusion

Living in a dorm, or excuse me, residence hall, for some time now has caused me to reflect on the perks of living in a house as opposed to a place that can feel like an infirmary.
Ooh, lets go with this analogy for a minute. The dorm is like an infirmary because there are always a bunch of people sick, except mostly from self-induced scenarios including (but not limited to) alcohol and/or drug excess, and the others who have communicable diseases. And I, as the RA, act as the nurse: staying up all night to make sure my residents don't die from alcohol poisoning, checking up on them, and coming when they call. Unfortunately, unlike nurses, I actually live in the infirmary. And I live right next door to all the sick and sometimes irritating patients.
But I digress, this post is not about how horrible my RA job is, because the fact is that it's not half bad, and the perks are quite nice. I am writing today about houses. So, your standard house is equipped with a family room, kitchen, at least one bedroom and one bathroom, perhaps a dining room, and, if you're lucky, a living room. Gasp! What exactly is a living room? What is a family room? That is an easy one, you say. A family room is where the people in the house all gather to hang out, watch TV, read, bond, etc. Then what, by golly, (I always wanted to put that phrase to good use) is a living room?
I can tell you one thing: in my experience, it certainly isn't a place where most people do their "living." Of all the houses I grew up around, the living has always been the most anti-child, most inaccessible place in the entire home. My friends' moms would have preferred that we were scouring her nightstand drawer than enter the living room. Why is it that we confine all of our most expensive, antique, and rare valuables to one room? And more importantly, why the hell do we call it, "a living room?" (Don't even get me started on the dining room, an almost equally inaccessible waste of space).
I thoroughly searched Google to find someone else, anyone (please!) out there who felt the same way as I did, but all that turned up in my search result were thousands of complaints about poor quality living room furniture and a boring venue. The music venue is called, creatively, "The Living Room," in NYC. That sounds like the most boring venue I have ever heard! (And I don't even like exclamation points, but I do like to italicize). It must be filled with a bunch of over-priced furniture, family heirlooms, impressionist paintings and no where to sit. I hope for the opposite. Perhaps those quick people in New York, who know they're always ahead of the curve and are at the center of the universe, thought the name would be ironic. And for their sake, I sure hope it is.
I pondered for quite of a new approach for this misnomer. I concluded that my initial names just didn't have the same ring to it. "Unapproachable room," "Cold hard bitch room," "Don't Touch! Space," "Fuck off this shit's expensive! room." None of these quite fulfilled the void in my imaginary house. Thus, my only other conclusion is to only live in house without the presence of this condemned room. That is my quest. And that is all for today.