I was eating breakfast at an IHOP in Lawton, Oklahoma, when I seriously considered living on Yerba Buena Island for the first time. Fresh out of journalism school in Missouri, I had just packed my truck with all my earthly possessions and set my sights on San Francisco. Even though I already had a writing job lined up, I didn’t know anybody in the state of California. In my mind, that wasn’t a problem. I did, however, need a place to live — immediately.

That’s exactly what I got when a fateful phone call drew me away from my Swedish crepes. My landlady-to-be was on the other end, following up on my perfectly calm, in-no-way-frantic email with a subject line that read something like, “NEW COLLEGE GRADUATE WHO LANDED DREAM JOB VERY INTERESTED IN YOUR ROOM FOR RENT!!!” She asked a list of basic questions, quizzed me about my astrological sign (Taurus) and voiced her approval before my food got cold. …