Paul loves San Francisco but he loves it less than I do. When the guy at the laundromat snorts crack in front of me, I’m over it within a few days. But it sticks with Paul. Once in a while the topic of “moving from San Francisco” comes up. We talk about where we should move, we talk about the kind of house we would buy. We talk about our dream jobs, etc. But then I think about the crappy things that go along with living in a more affordable city, and I change the subject.

To make sure this move won’t happen for a while and also to make sure it turns out to my advantage, I’ve got an ongoing list of things that need to be bought in order for me to move. This bad boy is on the list.