The House Over the Hill

Climbing hills on the 6-Parnassus.

Sunday found me climbing a very steep hill up 9th Avenue on the 6-Parnassus, en-route to yet another open house. Seven weeks. Two offers. Zero house.

One of the many things that make San Francisco so beautiful are it’s hills, and the sweeping views they provide for those living up up up there.

Pretty much every neighborhood we’re looking at involves hills as their names promote and warn: Merced Heights, Golden Gate Heights, Diamond Heights, Bernal Heights and Forest Hill.

These hills are many people’s dreams. For me, it’s also a bit of a nightmare.

Since we are reliant on public transportation and walk everywhere, hills are tricky. I’ve been wearing sneakers or flats during our weekly open house tours to compensate, especially after coming within an eyelash of rolling an ankle outside of a potential pad in Westwood Highlands.

Almost rolled an ankle in these ankle boots: Acne Studios Lila boots in nude.

Terrain and elevation really wreak havoc on footwear choices. And no matter where we end up or how high, I want to put my best foot forward in our new neighborhood, even if it means that foot will most likely be confined to sensible shoes. Ironic that our upgrade in home from a flat to a house means a downgrade in heel height to the flat, or at least more of them in rotation.

But honestly, the biggest problem with hills is being over one. At the ripe old age of coughcoughcoughclearthroatcough51coughcoughclearthroatcoughchough, I’m lucky that I can still bop around with relative ease. But I’m smart enough to know those days are numbered, and I have to think about hills and the ability to get over and around them as I get older.

Golden Gate Heights, San Francisco.

Many homes are for sale because their owners are either moving to a retirement home, want a smaller place, or have died. Bathrooms and showers have been outfitted with handles and bars so their owners won’t slip. We may uncomfortably joke about this, but it’s really not funny. They needed it. We’re going to need it sooner than I’d like.

So as I rethink how shoes will factor in our move up, I’m thinking about age. Crap.

That said, I’d rather wallow up on a hill, in flats, in our new home. Wherever that ends up being.