You leave the house in a tank top and skirt at 8am and return at noon in a wool coat and scarf. (Also, add to the list: You’re smart enough to carry layers with you wherever you go.)
Your calves are the thickest part about you thanks to streets called Gough, Vermont, Divis and Lombard.
Your heating bill is higher in July then all of the winter months combined.
You plan your brunch dates for mid-week with your fellow self-employed pals, so you don’t waste two hours of your Saturday waiting in line at your favorite establishments like Zazie and Red Door Cafe; all other friends (and husbands) who work a traditional office job are SOL.
You’ll pay $20 to park your car in an outdoor lot for the day because that’s a hell of a deal for not having to run and check the meter every two hours or, worse, spend the next 45 minutes of your life searching for a parking space.
You learn which routes through the Tenderloin have the least amount of homeless people you’ll have to ignore as you pass.
You’ll wear a cocktail dress (bare arms) and stilettos (no tights) out at night in 40 degree weather because you own those kinds of clothes and there’s really “no good time” to wear them anyway.
You get your monthly wax (TMI?) in the South Bay because it means an escape! To the sunshine! And your smile gets brighter as every mile the thermometer rises a degree.
You consider $2000 a month in rent for a two-bedroom apartment cheap. (It is: We swear!)
You no longer own a flat iron or hair dyer–or, at the very least, it’s been so long you’ve used them that they’ve garnered an impressive collection of dust–because you know five minutes out in the Bay wind will render your efforts useless anyway.
Beach bonfires in the summer mean breaking out your ski jacket.
Despite all the aforementioned, you can’t imagine living anywhere else.
(All just hypothetical reasoning, of course.)