[
Cross-posted from my
MovableType Blog]
. . . In the middle of the street.
All good things must come to an end. So, too, must my time in
Sunnyvale.
I'm sure there are aspects of living in suburban hell that I will
miss. (I suspect I'll be seeing a lot less of a few of you and
that makes me sad.)
Officially, as of today, I am a resident of San Francisco. I
believe my disdain of anything south of 280 is coming along nicely
(and has been for years), but can someone tell me where I need to
go for my facial hair & sideburn implant? I think I'm going to
need help with that one.
We're all set to converge on Potrero Hill:
![](http://erik.ogan.net/our_move.png)
What that (linked) map doesn't show is the relative elevation
changes. They don't call it "Potrero Hill" for nothing!
The exercise will be good for us.
It's a wonderful 3 bedroom Edwardian house built in 1912 (and
extended in 1922). The kitchen, dining room & back yard scream out
for entertaining, so I hope to be seeing more of some of you than
I have been lately.
Ok, I can't resist, one photo from the listing:
![](http://www.amsires.com/units/00DR0863/R02.JPG)
Our Kitchen
(from our dining room)
Speaking of listings, how we came by this place is a funny story.
Last week I made arrangements to see 4 places on Saturday. At the
last minute, I also made arrangements to see two places on Sunday,
1 block apart. (DeHaro @ 20th & 21st). Late Friday, I printed out
all of the listings as well as maps, and found a discrepancy. 21st
ends at the hospital (well, just north of it). There is no DeHaro
& 21st.
On Saturday, we saw 4 places, 3 of which we loved, for
entirely different, conflicting reasons. We had a hard decision in
front of us. Made worse by the fact that we didn't agree on which
was the top contender. (The third, oddly enough, was the Edwardian
we saw in February with which Chiara fell in love, even at night)
My top contender was on Connecticut St. Just up the hill from the
Connecticut Yankee pub. While that wasn't why I wanted to live
there, it did factor into the equation. (Hi, mom!)
As we discussed the relative merits of what we'd seen, I called to
confirm Sunday's appointments. I didn't expect the properties we
saw on Sunday to affect our decision, since they didn't look all
that interesting. When I called the 21st & de Haro broker, I
realized I'd made 2 appointments to see the same property!
In my defense, different brokers, different photos,
different prices! Unfortunately, the more
expensive one was first. We saw it, Chiara fell in love with it
immediately. I saw that it was at least on par with my current
front runner, so we decided to think on it (for 45 minutes before
our next showing)
Here I feel bad. The first broker showed us the house, answered
our questions, did his song & dance. (He was also juggling several
people at once, definitely trying to maximize his chances). The
correct thing to do would have been to explain that we'd seen this
property advertized cheaper, and give him a chance to match it.
Instead, we just went with the second broker.
Sunday night, I got a call from the first broker telling me that
he had an application in hand, so if we were interested, we should
apply now. That seemed like a low trick, but it amused me, since
the other application was us. Chiara also noticed that he'd
reposted the listing on Craig's List.
This made us a bit edgy, but I assumed it was just a real-estate
agent working hard to get a commission.
Yesterday evening we went over to sign paperwork and hand over a
large cashier's check. In my excitement, I got to the train
station early, and I managed to get on the wrong train -- the only
one in a two hour window that does NOT
stop at 22nd St.
Tomorrow we go, sign the lease again (corrected in a few places),
and get keys.
I REALLY liked Brian & Christyn's "First
Night" pajama party idea, and was really looking forward to
stealing it. But Chiara's sick, and I think she should spend the
nights until she's well in her own bed.
But soon, we'll have a "Not-Quite-First Night" sleep over, so air
out your sleeping bags & Thermarests (Aerobeds, for the weak (like
me))
*bounce*