I'm one of your respondents who's traveled sufficiently to form an educated opinion that there's no place better on earth to live than the Pacific Northwest! (I just wish a few million other people hadn't come to this conclusion along with me.)
As a "stewardess" (when political correctness did not rule the land) with Trans World Airlines for six years, I had multiple layovers in every large city on our route system and was based in Kansas City, Missouri, where I encountered 20-below frozen winter hell, hiding in a basement during tornadoes, and triple-digit summer temps with 90% humidity at midnight.

I was taught to carry my hotel room key serrated edge out between my fingers as an attack aid when riding the elevator to my layover room in a 42nd-Street hotel in downtown Manhattan. I was told to hold my breath as much as possible in the crew car when we passed the refineries in New Jersey. My wool uniform smelled like unwashed dog after a few hours in the humidity of Miami. My eyes watered and my throat hurt like hell after just a couple of hours breathing the air in Los Angeles. I lost part of several paychecks to the one-armed bandits in Vegas. (Hey, I was young and stupid.)
Please don't flame me if you live in these cities and are content with your life and circumstances there. I'm just trying to illustrate that, compared to the rural joys of my home state of Oregon, I slogged through those six years of flying trips to all those cities in all those states feeling like I was living "Paradise Lost." I quit and took an uninspiring secretarial job just to get back home.
Oh, and I've also toured most of Europe (Yow, so crowded!), gone on safari in three countries in Africa, spent three weeks in Morocco and Egypt, and visited almost every island in the Caribbean, along with Hawaii. I never got to the Far East or China because just the THOUGHT of the population density even then (1970's) made me ill.
And I spent six WINTER months living in Fairbanks, Alaska, while they were building the pipeline up there, engaged to a wildlife biologist who thought it would be tough love to introduce me to the state when it routinely dropped to 40 below, to see if I was tough enough to be his bride. Ho, ho, that relationship went the way of the Tanana River during "break-up!"

But, ironically, I loved Alaska and probably would have stayed there if my first impressions included more daylight hours, no wolfskin parka and mukluks, and the ability to simply take a few walks outside without defying the odds of getting back alive.
Anyway, I feel happy to have returned to my roots and to KNOW that I'm where I belong.
