There is, for many of us, a sort of quiet, overcoming-adversity pride to living in San Francisco, one of the most expensive cities on the planet. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers face down real estate prices that compete with Manhattan; groceries which, by weight, cost about the same as narcotics; and gasoline that appears to be a handcrafted and smuggled in at night to judge by what we pay at the pump. And now this:
From the San Francisco Chronicle's Sept. 4 story on parking meters (which were charging on Labor Day. No free parking for you, sucker!)
Starting in January, the city will begin handing out tickets for expired meters seven days a week, Sundays included. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's will be the only days when meters won't be enforced.
It's the little things.
On the other hand, our dear sistah Magda in New Orleans writes that today was the first he's had power since the hurricane passed through five days ago. Let me tell you, sweetie, five days at the end of the summer in NOLA with no air conditioning is not something anyone should have to face.
Meanwhile, back home in SF, I went out for drinks with some friends and was freezing because I had forgotten a jacket. You'd think more than 20 years here would teach me, but no. Maybe I just can't afford common sense.
Houseboy booty. Don't forget Speak Like a Pirate Day is coming up, Sept. 19. Arrgh. Prepare to be boarded.
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