Gimme Shelter: House-hunting in San Francisco

Today our tenant moved into our New York City apartment.  Though we signed away the apartment a week ago and have been living with my mother in California for the past several days, we didn’t feel that we’d be truly “homeless” until our old place was occupied.  We didn’t want to be homeless.  Yes, there’s an inordinate number of souls “out of doors” in San Francisco, but we weren’t ready to join them just yet.  And besides, Mimi gets filthy enough as it is even with access to bathing facilities. 

Up to this point the apartment search had been a bit discouraging.  As I wrote in an earlier post, I had applied for an apartment when I was out in San Francisco at the beginning of the month and, for reasons still unknown and probably unfathomable if ever discovered, had been rejected.  It stung, but I’m used to it.  Just ask me about my high school dating record. 

With Sumie and I both in SF, the prospects looked better.   We started our search on Monday with an apartment that seemed ideal: three bedroom, two bath, renovated, decent neighborhood, parking for one car, and in our price range.  We thought about taking it, but it was the first apartment of our search.  We had to see more.  We asked the owner who wanted a decision by the end of the day if he could hold off until 6:30pm the following day.  We were his preferred candidates so he said, “OK.” 

We saw three additional places, one on Monday and two on Tuesday, and while they all had their strong points, nothing seemed as good as that first one.  So, at 6:10, we called to say we’d take it.  But the call was in vain.  We learned that the apartment had been rented to three graduate students just 10 minutes ago.  “Really,” we thought, “at the open house you told us you just kicked out three graduate students because they were bad tenants.  Why couldn’t you wait?”  We never got an answer, but, as it turned out, it was good we called late. 

I was beyond despondent, though, Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning.  As usual, Sumie kicked my butt and got me into gear again, searching Craigslist like a speed freak and shooting e-mails out to every realtor known to man.  By Wednesday night we had another 4-5 showings lined up for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. 

Today at noon we visited a charming little row house in the inner Richmond district.  It was a two bedroom, with a sun-room, that had just undergone a full renovation.  The back yard was also undergoing a similar renovation, a new cement slab having just been poured and further landscaping to be completed later that week.   The home also had a two-car garage.  Thinking we may want this one, I had sent in our application via the web the night before.  When we arrived at the home the agent notified that if we wanted it, it was ours.  We said yes, and then some.  It’s such a relief to know that not only will we have a place to live, we’ll have a genuine home for Mimi: a place she can explore with her walker, ride a tricycle outside, and call her very own.  Oh, and having maintained two cars in Manhattan with street parking for 9 years, I think I’ve earned that two-car garage. 

Closing the deal on this rental has gotten both Sumie and I thinking about the places we’ve lived in since college.  When I left California for Japan, I was placed in a little city just outside Tokyo.  My apartment, though cheap, was a not ideal.  Built in the early 60s from fiberboard, straw, three or four two-by-fours, gum, and mud, it was hot in the summer, freezing in the winter, drafty always.  The shower had a crank start.  I’m not kidding.  My hot water was heated by natural gas, but to get the hot water going I had to spark the burner on the shower unit.  There’s nothing like squatting naked in a tile bathroom, the temperature hovering at a balmy “just-below-freezing,” trying to start the shower equivalent of a rusty Ford Model T.  There were, however, two saving graces to this apartment: it was close to my host family and next door to a fellow who has become one of my best friends. 

I’ve had my fair share of trials in NYC as well.  My first apartment was a mixture of dank, shouting, bedbugs, and awkward encounters on the street below (“Get the hell out of Harlem, you damn hypocrite!” a rather drunken fellow once remarked as I was walking home).  My second was the size of a postage stamp but still cost $1,000 per month.  The third apartment, this one finally shared with Sumie, was quite good, but with only 500 square feet for two people, at the cost of well above the average American mortgage, it wasn’t exactly the best value. 

Still, having moved to San Francisco, I’m quite thankful for these challenges.  By taking these chances, by having lived far less comfortably and in far more expensive locales than when I grew up, I’ve developed an appreciation for simple pleasures.  In most of America, a small two bedroom with a fireplace, a garage, and a miniscule backyard would be scraping the bottom of the barrel.  But for me, it’s absolute luxury.  In my mind, still trapped in a Manhattan mentality, this equates to $5000.00 for rent, $1,000 for parking, and my first born for the yard.  I won’t tell you how much we’re paying in San Francisco for all this, but it is far less expensive and I’ve been able to keep my daughter. 

Stretching yourself when you’re young, really going beyond your comfort zone, can pay significant benefits in the future.  I think Sumie and I, as a I result of our lives in Tokyo and Manhattan, will always be on the frugal / modest side when it comes to our future homes.  Well, at least until we win the lottery. 

Mimi update: she’s been enjoying California immensely.  Today she finally woke from a full night’s sleep, having adjusted to West Coast time, and enjoyed her second day at the local pool.  I think she’s going to be a swimmer just like her father.  She also discovered a new park with her favorite type of swing.  Things are definitely coming together for Mimi as well!

 -Steve