Gene and I recently went and looked at some San Francisco houses for sale. That was mighty weird. They mostly weren’t much bigger than our current apartment (except they all had full-floor garage/basements for some reason; I guess all real estate in this area comes with its own trollspace), but they were houses, y’all. Like, you know where your parents live? That kind of space! I kept asking questions like “don’t the other units have use of this yard?” And “are utilities included in the rent?” No. This is no apartment. This is a whole separate kingdom.
Unfortunately, to buy a house in San Francisco we’d have to move out to Bernal Heights or Upper Market or the Outer Sunset, and what I realized after our tour was that I’m not merely unwilling to leave San Francisco, I’m unwilling even to leave the ten-block radius of the Castro. So we’re going to look at some apartments around here.
Granted, if we give up on the city altogether and move to, say, Alameda we can own this crazy mansion of awesomeness:
But I’m not ready for so much awesome. I need to work up to that level of awesome very slowly. So, Castro it is.
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