I Have Found Me a Home

Wow -- almost a month since my last blog. Pretty bad, but I've been busy. My last month has been: work, Dad in town, work, find a place to live. I just got back from San Diego last night, and the winner is...the condo.

I decided to rent for a year until I'm sure this is the job for me. After a frustrating Monday, I found three things that I liked on Tuesday: a "Craftsman" house, a townhouse, and a condo. All similar price.

The townhouse fell out of the running early. It was very nice -- lots of room, electric fireplace, garage, new appliances. The problem was that it was antiseptic and lacked character -- grey carpets, off-white walls, boring kitchen. It also had another unit on each side, so light only at the ends. Of the people whose opinions I solicited, none said "Yeah, get the townhouse."

"Craftsman" houses, at least in San Diego, are small ranch style house usually built on a small plot, and usually with a personal of the builder's personality. I really liked the idea of having my own house. This one had a large bedroom, a small bedroom, and a den, with a living room and dining room, which were both small. Also, fairly low ceilings. But a yard, a little porch, and a thousand ways to make it mine. And no one to complain of noise through a wall. The problem was, it was in a slightly less nice (at least appearing) neighborhood, and there was no security.

At six foot/one-ninety-five, I haven't worried about security much. In San Francisco, I'll walk almost anywhere by myself, even at night (though I try to avoid the Tenderloin). But friends of mine have had to change their phone numbers because of stalking patients (and paramours), and I recently had a patient park herself in my foyer screaming she would sue us. I began to get antsy at the thought of arriving to an empty house most nights, sometimes late. I wondered to my father if this was a real problem. He said, "Now that it's in your head, it doesn't matter if it's real. If you're already not going to feel safe there, don't take it." That kicked the house out of the running.

That leaves the condo. It's a honey, and now that the decision is over, I'm starting to settle in and enjoy the thought of it. It's a lot like my current place: balcony, view, fireplace (electric, which seems to be the SD standard), and wood floors. What it lacks a bit in character, it makes up for a bit in modern touches: new steel appliances, whirlpool jets in both baths, mirrors on the closet doors, fireplace with remote, closet organizers, and cable wired in every room. It is also on the top floor (no footsteps above me) of a building about 3 blocks from Urban Mo's (formerly Hamburger Mary's).

Here are the pics -- see what you think. Bonus points, by the way, if you know who sang the tune I stole for the title of this blog.

The kitchen:

The living room:



The master bedroom:


And bath:



The built-in washer/dryer and desk-in-closet in the second bedroom/my office and the guest bath (also with whirlpool jets -- come visit). The view is due west.



(Note: I was going to put the entry way and building shots here, but apparently I'm not over the stalker patient jitters that kept me away from the house yet. Maybe later.)

Southwest view from the balcony. This is supposedly the view of choice from Hillcrest -- you be the judge:

Special thanks to everyone who helped me decide.