Ten

Someone is building a house on the corner of her street and Ocean Boulevard. It's massive. Two floors of rooms below ground and two floors above consume the entire plot, stretching a block deep.

Every day she walks by the construction site and wonders why anyone would want that many rooms. And why would they want that much stuff to fill or decorate those rooms.

She doesn't want to hate anything, but she hates stuff.

Those rooms under ground are going to get no light. Not much living is going to go on there, especially when there will be at least ten rooms upstairs with ocean views. They will be stuff stuffed with stuff. She hates those rooms because they represent gluttony. Gluttony is depressing because it doesn't enable it's victims to learn a lesson. It's a strictly additive vice, unlike gambling which allows for gain, and, more importantly, loss.