Day 173

After gathering some words of wisdom and listening to people who recently moved to SF, I calculated that it would take at least two weeks to find housing. I started looking late last week and was discouraged by the response rate. For every ten emails I sent out, I'd get back one reply. Craigslist was kicking my ass. Actually one feature I'd love to see on CL would be for it to track how many people respond to an ad. I'd like to see the ticker go up and up since in my mind I envision a flurry of replies as soon as you post. I was told that the only sure way to insure a response was to get to an ad quickly. I had two stock emails at the ready -- one for subletting solo, one for subletting with roommates -- and refreshed CL constantly to get the jump.

I felt like I was combination job and date hunting. I was concerned that potential roommates would find me unsuitable, I was worried that my fantastic query emails would be rejected sight unseen. I was worried that I was going to get to SF and then stay on George's couch forever. Actually, I wasn't worried about that, but I'm sure George was.

By Tuesday I had only one solid lead and was thinking I might just sign for the place sight unseen. In my rush to find a simple month-to-month living situation, I figured anything would do. I was talked out of that hasty decision by George and Ameer as they pointed out that I was heading up in a few days anyway. I reluctantly decided to just wait until I could get to the Bay to pick a place.

Well, I hit the ground running, scheduling three places to check out even as I was at the airport on Thursday. I figured my criteria would be simple. If it was over $800 I wanted to live alone, if it was over $1300 I couldn't afford it. If it was a great deal for two people, I'd armbar Victor into living with me. I wanted to live somewhere within walking distance (defined as anything within a mile) to friends, because otherwise I'd just be out alone on an island, with only a crappy bus system to connect me. I needed to live close to food because otherwise I'd starve. Other than that I was pretty open.

So open that I was ready to take the first place I looked at, a tiny little studio in the Haight. It was just two long blocks up from the famed Haight-Ashbury corner, located on a wide quiet street, within my price range, and was the place I almost signed for blind. I found out that place was furnished, took one quick look around, and was ready to sign. I won't lie and say that living across the hall from someone who was in the Wicked musical (a fact I learned talking to the landlord) wasn't a big draw. I envisioned lazy afternoons laptopping and cruising the Haight while my nights were filled with a live Wicked performance in my building. It seemed like kismet.

The only thing that prevented me from taking the place was that the application was online and I couldn't finish it until I got home. An hour or so later, after a pit stop to try to fix George's mysteriously broken but not broken right brake light, I was handing over a security deposit for a studio in the Mission. I'm either a quick decision maker or easily swayed.

The place in the Mission was a bit larger, with two rooms instead of just one. It was located underneath a house and had a private gate entrance as well as a sizable shared garden. The owner of the building seemed so relaxed and genial that I was immediately swept up by his personality. He said that he and his partner had bought the worst house on the block a few years ago and fixed it up. The concrete stoop leading up to the house used to be known as the "crack steps." Now the building was painted a cheery green and orange and brightened up the block considerably.

I'm a terrible house looker I've decided. Because I knew my stay would be temporary and my needs pretty slight, I didn't even go into these lookings with much of a game plan. I walked out of the Haight studio not having even noted if there was a refrigerator. I forgot to ask about utilities and had to email the lady to ask afterwards. I didn't check for mold, turn on the shower, or poke around even a little bit. The only thing I did was take a short walk around, sniff a few times, and then proceed to start talking how I could take the place. I didn't improve much on my second attempt, remembering only to ask about laundry (none available on-site) and utilities (fully covered). It's been awhile since I've had to look for housing I guess.

Anyway, I found a place not twenty four hours after getting here and my mind is much more settled. I move in early or mid-March and will have a few weeks slumming in the Marina. Actually, I looked around at crime statistics on the Mission and am now a bit scared that I'll get destroyed with my obliviousness so really I have a few weeks to toughen up and become city aware again. The rough streets of suburban San Diego aren't exactly crime ridden. Actually, I don't think I've ever lived in an area where I had to watch my step all that much. Walking around in New York is an entirely different (gentle) beast and that was the only true city I've been near.

Maybe I'll just have to hole up in my little cave and emerge only when it's light out -- for the four hours of daylight I'm usually awake for. I'm excited about it all though because the Mission has great bookstores, a ton of food, and plenty of places to explore. While I love the Haight, I felt like I had explored a lot of it already and there seemed to be less chill hanging out places than the Mission. Another plus is that I'll be right around the corner from 826 Valencia and maybe I'll be able to finagle my way into volunteering there. My pirate accent sucks though so maybe they won't accept me. I wish it was the superhero version of 826, I could over-qualify for that one.