After three years of living at the Farm, I've hit that point of finding bones to pick with the neighborhood.

I continue to love our place -- not just despite its quirks (terrible windows that let in the cold and the heat, slow-to-heat water, several old-fashioned electrical outlets that don't work) but because of them. I love our backyard and our washer and dryer and our crazy front door, and Mike remains the coolest landlord ever.

But the neighborhood is starting to piss me off.

It's a typical Berkeley neighborhood -- lots of foliage, Subarus, peace signs. It's pretty charming. But there's a nasty thuggish element that's always bugged me.

On Valentine's Day, Adam and I came home to find my bike stolen. It was there when we left at 1 pm and gone by 5. That means some stranger walked down our little pathway and took what wasn't theirs. I know these are the sorts of things you're supposed to get used to in an urban environment, but screw that. I'll never get used to the idea that my possessions can be ripped off in the middle of the day.

Adam's cars (yes, he has two; don't ask) are routinely rifled through. They're convertibles and so he leaves the doors unlocked because experience has shown it's better to get some loose change ripped off than to have a $700 top slashed. When I owned a convertible, I locked the doors and nothing ever happened, but it was probably more dumb luck than anything.

Since living here, he's had a leather jacket and a bunch of CDs stolen. Should he have left that stuff unprotected? Of course not, just like we shouldn't have had the bikes unlocked in the front yard. Doesn't stop me from being pissed about it.

Today I almost ran over a bunch of skateboarding little brats. They think they own the damn street. I have to leave for a dentist appointment in a few hours and I wouldn't be surprised to find my car screwed with in some way or another.

I know bad things happened on Piedmont Avenue too, where I lived for eight years, and I also can't even compare my ratty apartment there to the place we have now. My life took a giant step up when we moved to Grant Street. But you know, I've always known the neighborhood here isn't what the neighborhood is off Piedmont. And I guess that's coming home to roost a bit.

I'm not looking to move. I'm just sad that the bloom is off the rose.