I know that I am blessed to have had the means to purchase part of a building four years ago. But I still pick up this bi-monthly publication whenever I see a new one in the bins that are strewn across the city. I bring it home and it sits right on the bedstand table for a few days or lingers in the bathroom as toilet reading.
I love where I live, but I'm always looking for that "bargain" (an oxymoron here in the Bay Area) in Telegraph Hill or Russian Hill or some cute neighboorhood that I have this perception of being the apex of gentility and chicness. Why do I do that given that I am a person who rarely cares about image and such. But I have these crazy dreams that it would be the ultimate to live in a cute duplex on Telegraph Hill on one of the crazy dead-end streets or even better, on either the Greenwich or Filbert Street steps. A man can dream can't he? And he is most certainly allowed to be have delusions of grandeur!
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