It turns out that i'm moving from my convenient, comfortable and temporary apartamento into my first San Francisco address this Saturday. There was no plan. I hadn't looked at any places to live or anything. I bumped into Molly and Jane at Ritual on Valencia one day, and it just so happened that Jane is moving to New York. It's her house (yes, house) that i'll be moving into... (Unfortunately for me, both of these lovely ladies are leaving.)
Here's the sheer-dumb-luck-perfect-match list:
- a backyard (aka any outdoor space that isn't 3x4')
- a spare room so guests may come (guests - that's you! get yer asses to SF)
- a gas stove
- a light and airy ambience
- a laundry on the premises, preferably without coinage requirements, and finally
- location, location, location
John told me I should live in the Mission. The place is in the Mission.
I can't WAIT to move in, get my stuff, purchase a few key bits (the list is long, but manageable - includes fairy lights) and sleep once again in my own bed, with my sheets. There is much discovery to be had of myriad food stores, good coffee joints, neighbours with cups of sugar, nice places to sit, good restaurants, Alcatraz, the GG Bridge and many, many other bits and pieces that make up this mysterious city.
Note: It appears that brunch is quite the standard for weekend socialising, so San Franciscans!? Be prepared for many eggs, coffee, fruit etc.