Last time I was in the city I was with the man I loved. This time I’m going to the city, and my partner in crime and I have our passports to the Street Food Festival, just a little walk away from our base camp. and see if we, two very smart cookies with penchants for predicaments, will be smart enough to get ourselves in just enough trouble for laughs and smart enough to stay out of any trouble that could present a pooper to the party. Last time, we (Guy and I) had a room on the 24th or the 26th floor of the beyond beautiful Westin St. Francis (and truth be told, I could have stayed in that room, staring at the view all weekend, if I had been so lazily inclined). This time, we’re taking over a friend’s home steps away from Dolores Park.
The info display on Stupid Scandinavian Car advised it was 107 today, and that is more than 40 ridiculous degrees hotter than it will be in my gloriously foggy, and beloved, city.
Last time, I held someone’s hand as we walked up and down those hills, this time, I may be assisting or receiving the assistance of holding someone or myself being held up. I have been known to break my foot and refuse to seek medical care so as to not waste a minute of my vacation in this town. She has been known to horrifically sprain and bruise ligaments and soft tissue in an ankle, refusing to seek medical care until her vacation was over. We may be smart, most of the time, but maybe have more zest than brains when good times roll.
So, here’s to saving me from myself, San Francisco.
I can say, that I expect I will not find myself quasi hitch-hiking from Big Sur back up into the city, as I once had to do following a major ditch move by a man to whom I am no longer friends. It was a great ride up north, and I made a new friend from it. Thanks for saving me, San Francisco!
Annnnd, I just found out within the last five minutes that another neighbor, my right next door neighbor/owner, who rented to the most awesome and considerate couple who have been dream neighbors for the last four years… is foreclosing. So the prospect of uncertain new neighbors coupled with the tenant renting the property above me who screams so angrily and stomps and slams things — I do not pay the mortgage I pay to live like I’m in college housing……. oh my gosh…
SAVE ME, San Francisco!