Whereas I Go to UC/SF and snoop around

I do not like San Francisco.

I like the IDEA of San Francisco, just not the place itself.
Too many people. All trying to go where I'm going.Except they KNOW where they are going and I don't.

The medical center sent a NARRATIVE map..not a real map, just written directions. I guess that worked just fine, since we got there and back but still, I like looking at a map and guessing where it is that I'm at. Just as aside, I was so scared OUT my mind that I didn;t bring my knitting nor do I try to find a store that sold yarn.

On the way home in the planet's worst rainstorm, we drove forever and were just in Campbell. Campbell isn't close enough to home to even COUNT. We got home at 11 and were up for work the next day.

We did find a great little burger place on Carl and Cole, just above the Haight and below the medical center. Found a parking place. It had a bathroom, which counts for a lot in San Francisco, since not every place has them. (It is my personal irritation when one is OBVIOUSLY a customer and one asks for the bathroom and one is told that there are no public bathrooms available. Well, this one is not the public, obviously, since this one is spending money. That would make this one a customer and therefore eligible for the bathrooms. Would not one think? Not in San Francisco. Or Visalia, either, come to think of it.)

I obediently went to the Neuro Department, since that was were everyone was at. Nope, I belonged over at the Brain Tumor Department. It had a nice view of the park and I could look into people homes (always a plus for me.....medical procedures and snooping). They had an insufficient number of interesting magazines, too. PLUS every fifteen minutes or so, my future self would stroll by, halting on a cane with her hair swathed in a scarf or merrily in a wheelchair with the entire back of his head having been pried open and stapled shut. Neither look appealed to me.

I do have to say that the people working there must have been used to wide eye-and-silent "I'M not going!!" looks on their patients faces, since I did not disturb them in the least. The good thing is that I don;t have an AVM or a tumor. I see the gamma ray doctor on Monday (Boy-o will go with us, just because Boy-o never gets to go anywhere). This new doctor will decide with going in with the gamma rays to sizzle out such a small deep spot that isn't cancerous is worth it. Said small spot is the size of a thumbtack. I am sure Dr. Spock would have been able to manage this on Stark Trek. My bet is that it is too small and too deep to dig around for, so they will treat it with drugs. Which is fine by me, as long as most of it goes on anywhere NOT in San Francisco.

I would see a huge dog park from the 8th floor. I imagine those dogs have never been off leash, never have had a chance to stretch their legs and run like a greyhound like Tank does. I doubt that Rocket would be allowed to dig for hours after gophers and then just sit, her ears barely visable above the dirt and watch the cars go by.

There are tons of really gorgeous, well kept Victorians to look at--all the different (and pricey) color combos, gingerbread and fancy carvings. The damp takes it's toll on their pristine looks just as the heat does here at home. It takes a LOT of money to keep a Victorian in top condition and a lot of work. They don't stay clean by themselves and those old windows leak in the dust.