My neighborhood's up and coming. Flaming trashcans and all.

I live in Prospect Heights, which has apparently "come[s] into its own."* Oh has it? Then why does everything from going to the bank to buying groceries to the rare trip to a drycleaner or upscale-for-Brooklyn restaurant (al di la, home of the best possible reason not to be a vegetarian) require crossing Flatbush into Park Slope? Why was I recently informed, by a Brooklynite co-worker, when explaining which streets I live near, that I live in Mill Basin? Why, when a pair of elderly women attempted to descend the snow-and-ice-covered steps to the local subway station, did one tell the other that this showed her how much better it is to live in Manhattan? As lame and clunky as this acronym is, "ToPoSlo (Too Poor to live in the Slope)" sounds about right.

"For all its proximity to hot real estate markets in Fort Greene and Park Slope, the prices in Prospect Heights can at times seem suspiciously low."

Indeed. Which explains how my roommates and I were initially lured into our incredible deal in "Park Slope." But we live as close to Park Slope's main streets as do many who officially live in the Slope, so it's not so bad. Really it's not. It's not as though I'd like to live in a several-story townhouse, facing the park, with several gigantic, fluffy dogs. No, I much prefer living on a sidestreet where people who walk their cats on leashes save my roommates and me from death-by-flaming-trashcan...

"As for grocery shopping, there are a few supermarkets on Washington Avenue, but as of now, no Whole Foods or Fairway stores have been announced for the neighborhood. Still, a bustling farmer's market operates in Grand Army Plaza every Saturday year-round, attracting a dedicated base of shoppers."

A year-round farmers' market is wonderful, assuming you don't mind shopping only for local and seasonal products, and only on Saturday mornings. Often I don't mind this, but a Whole Foods, or better yet a Fairway, wouldn't hurt.

But low rents, pretty streets, and a short commute to Manhattan (along with that one most desired post-college amenity: local hipster bars) are not things to complain about. So I keep my complaining to a minimum.

*Hat tip: my mother.