Apartment Porn

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My guilty little pleasure.  I find at times when I’m online sidling over for a little casual encounter with craigslist.  I’m not looking for a lover or a possible scrabble date at the local coffee shop.  I’m not interested in who has tickets to Wicked they want to get rid off.  I’m here for the apartment porn.

This is how it works.  I pick my favorite neighborhoods in San Francisco, plug in what I think is an obscene amount of money for a place to live and then add on such exotic search words as: hard wood floors, crown molding, fire place, garden, parking, quiet and see what pops up.

And then I sit and scroll idly by the apartments and pick and choose which one I would live in and how I would furnish it and then the next thing you know I’m trying to figure out how to make my nanny salary really stretch, because I can almost see myself curled up in a leather club chair in front of my crackling fireplace with a book, and the cat, and a cup of tea.

I think it means not eating, ever.  But I would look fabulous in my new place, until they cart me away and give the cats to Animal Care and Control.

Then I try plugging in a more reachable goal, slightly less obscene, but still a good deal more than I’m currently paying.  I mean I’ve lived on Ramen noodles before, right, let’s see what I can fit in the budget.  And then I drool a little over the pretty wood floors and the view from the garden terrace for a bit.

And then if I’m feeling a little sadistic I’ll plug in what I’m paying now and see if there’s anything better out there.  Lucky for me, there’s typically not, I mean I have a pretty nice place when it comes down to it.

Although I am a little nervous about showing it off to the relatives who are coming to visit from Wisconsin this weekend.  Hard to explain how a studio for $1150 in Nob Hill is actually a good price.  And I can have my cats, and it’s got hard wood floors, and crown molding, and a claw foot tub.  Sure, there’s not a great view, except when I’m carrying my bike in from the side walk.  The view from my entry way is stunning, frankly.

I remember having a whole one bedroom apartment once with wood floors, a dining room, a closet, free laundry in the basement, a huge kitchen, a cute bathroom, a walk in closet in the bedroom with a freaking window, a back yard with garden space, and a garage.  I paid $750 a month and it included utilities.

Of course it was in Madison, Wisconsin.

I guess that’s how far I’ve come, dear San Francisco, I don’t bat an eye at paying over a thousand dollars for a room.  And I’ll pay more when the time is right to stay here.  Until then I’ll satisfy myself trolling craigslist.

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