“The incident of the suicidal cat was a rare flash of terror in this otherwise healthy, sedate neighborhood.”
That’s either the beginning to another Nancy Drew novel or, once again, I’m feeling bemused by our new neighborhood.
To catch you up, we moved from a funky, diverse neighborhood right in the middle of San Francisco — the Lower Haight — up to a sleepy hill in the west part of the City — the ‘burbs, basically.
My first experience up here was a little spooky, which soon morphed into just plain lonely. A few weeks later I decided that most suburban neighbors are, well, kind of crazy. Although I’ll admit I always liked the garden well enough to sing teenage-pop songs at the top of my voice, and there were certainly spooky freaky people down in the Haight.
Now, though, I’m finding our new, slower neighborhood is growing on me. We know our neighbors (even the weird ones), we go to community events, we even have people over for dinner. It’s relaxed here in a way that Haight Street never was.
Still, I’m not without my doubts about which spot — the dense, funky Haight or the spread-out, foggy hilltop — is the best for raising a family.
I wrote all about it today over at GNM Parents; to read the whole post (and get the whole scoop about the suicidal cat), click here.