2,083 miles and a sleeping bag
We rolled into San Francisco today, happy to be home. I was driving on the bridges, always a fertile field for commentary. The Presidio's office was still open, and gave us the keys to our new place. Our windows look out on the Pacific Ocean.
We unloaded the Pathfinder much more quickly than we loaded it, and then dashed out to the Marina district looking for a laundry-mat and a neighborhood restaurant. Our clothes had Tide while we had goat cheese and a lovely Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. While they tumbled dry, we walked hand-in-hand along Chestnut St. Two tired lovers in the cool gray city by the bay, eager for the first night in our new home.
A sleeping bag on the hardwood floor of our bedroom, located on the second floor of our refurbished flat. One pillow shared between us. Our belongings will arrive tomorrow. Tonight, the floor is enough.
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