As the average U.S. home grows ever more bloated in size, this blog continues to operate out of a disproportionately lean abode. It's been this way for awhile, unsurprisingly for someone who has chosen to live in expensive cities with an earning power based on her English B.A. and a smart attitude. For me, "living large" means that my bedroom has an actual door on it.
However, in recent months, my apartmenthold has been fueled by two incomes instead of one. Despite the boost in finances, our current place is smaller and sparser in amenities than the home of anyone we know. It is situated in America's Hangover, otherwise known as Haight-Ashbury, where most of the T-shirts cost $45 or more, but grating street performances and abusive commentary from drug addicts can be had for free.
This setup is fine with me. It's cozy, and the low rent allows us to save money. It also permits us to indulge -- giddily, though not without guilt -- in yuppie pleasures that we were previously unable to afford. It's like being DINK superheroes. By day, we wash our clothes at the laundromat and give away belongings because there's no room for them at home. By night, we dine at Danko and treat ourselves to spa packages.
This list began when I was mocked, deservedly, for uttering the first sentence below. Here are my top 10 ridiculous yuppie complaints of 2006 so far. The items that follow are not verbatim, but they are actual situations that one of us has commented on, usually resulting in a stale look from the other party.
They never give us enough olive oil for the bread at this wine bar.
My roadster convertible is getting totally ruined by street parking.
I can't believe the prices for manchego at this store.
It has taken Kenneth Wingard fully a month to deliver our chairs.
I don't know what it is but I can *never* find an organic chocolate bar that I like. Why is all the good chocolate not organic?
This farmer's market is out of control. Look at that line for microroasted artisanal coffee.
Closed? But this apothecary is the only one in the Marina that stocks Yon Ka products.
That massage was great, but my sinuses always get so clogged from the face cradle.
My tongue is burned from the latte I had today, so I can't fully appreciate this sopressata.
We need to cancel the farm-fresh fruit box delivery. This time they woke us up at six in the morning trying to deliver it, then left it on the street.
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