In the city

I could do it.

I sort of did do it, for seven years in Arlington, but despite being inside the Beltway, on the Orange Line, and situated such that I drove less than 2000 miles a year (and that mostly to ride around listening to Eddie Stubbs or Redskin games), I don’t know that I could really qualify my time in Northern Virginia as “urban living.”  And where I live now is resolutely suburban, despite the light rail and the highly walkable downtown and the fact that I’m on a 100% rail commute most of the time.

But the bug bit me in New York City (of course) and was aggravated by a weekend in San Francisco. We generally get to occupy the condo of some friends whenever they’re out of the country, a phenomenon I have come to think of as the “MUNI-break”, and there’s an above-average chance I will be living most of the week of the 4th of July in that 2 BR unit hard by AT&T Park.  Even just those two nights – we arrived lunchtime Saturday and I got on the train for work at 7:15 this morning – were enough to hit the nerve.  We walked at least five miles on Sunday, including things like taking in the Pride parade and the Aquarium of the Bay, not to mention hiking the long way up Telegraph Hill.  And then there was a quick cab ride to the Mission for dinner with friends at a very foodie-friendly establishment with excellent cocktails. Once I figured out which pillow was for my head and which one for my knees, I slept pretty good, and after all there’s a Safeway at the corner of the block open ’til midnight for strategic provisioning.

It doesn’t help that Team Black Swan East will become Team Black Swan North in a little over a month, having finally landed a place in Pacific Heights – probably about the size of my 1BR in Arlington, but ideally suited for their needs.  Which in turn makes me think about having stuff, and paring down stuff – and hell, if I’m honest, we could probably get by all right in that old Arlington place to this day.  So much depends on going out versus cocooning and what your preferred approach to the evenings and weekends is.*  The caveat being that as I stop being in denial about how old I am, I’m more instinctively inclined to cocoon.

Da Wife is fond of saying that she wants her cake and to eat it too – and our present living situation is certainly desirable and would probably be attractive if the shoe were on the other foot and we were sick of city real estate and city prices.  And the day may come when my willingness to walk anywhere and everywhere is diminished exponentially (and it may come sooner than later).  But I suspect that for the next couple of weeks, I’m going to be wrestling hard with the idea that maybe, just maybe, we could be cut out to live up in the city for good.  And I intend to milk it hard and get it out of my system as much as possible while it’s free.

 

 

* Honestly, at this point, I expect them to go to the city on Sunday and start house-hunting just on inertia and force of habit.  Guys, stay home, curl up on the couch with Osgood and get into my bottle of Booker’s if you like.  You’ve earned it. =)

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