Looking for a New Place to Live

Reason #1.  Charlie can’t sleep. I emailed Mike this play by play the other night while he was working late.

“Oh shit,” the guy right outside Charlie’s window yelled, “I have to go to Northpark to drop off my glove!”  His friend says, “It’s all good, dude. No worries!”

Their car peels out.  Yippee neighbor dog now barking.  Big dog at other neighbor’s house barking in reply.  Random gate slams.  Baby screaming (not ours, she has a boob in her mouth).  Big dog still barking.  Second gate slams. Big dog excessively barking. Muscle car pulls up out front.  “Vruum, vruuum, vruuum.” Baby still screaming.  Ghetto Bird helicopter overhead. Shinning light in yard.  yippee dog makes another appearance. he’s running loose in the street. big dog replies.

And, scene.

Loud neighborhood, annoying, I know.  But is it annoying enough to move?  Maybe not, but reason number 2 sure is:

Charlie and I took Sophie on a “Run-about” at 5:30 the other morning.  We see two black unmarked vehicles out front of the house several doors down.  ICE agents wearing bullet proof vests are videotaping (dang! The feds have nice equipment–note to self, talk to Mike about setting up some sort of agent to artist hand-me-down program) and taking photographs with a gorgeous big SLR.  A disheveled man is handcuffed out front. I see two women sobbing inside. Sophie naturally runs across the street to investigate. She sniffs an ice agent’s pants, I apologize, and we move on.

Later, I’m listening to NPR and hear that what Sophie, Charlie, and I had walked through might actually have been a METH RING RAID! Of course, after hearing this on the radio, I go google crazy and find this video of “Operation Jackhammer,”  which was shot exactly four doors down from our house.

Holy cow. There used to be the nicest Rastafarian guy that lived in that house. Why did he move?  And who the hell let the meth distributors move in?  How has our neighborhood, which used to be endearing in it’s eclectic, not-so-great-ness somehow de-volve into a place where I no longer feel safe?  It’s sad. Gentrification is lame(it breaks my heart how much my old Chicago neighborhood, Wicker park, changed), but let me tell you, so is the opposite of gentrification–whatever the word for that is, it stinks too.

Tried to buy a house three days later. Didn’t get it.  Anxiously looking.  If you find anything interesting, let us know.


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