Upward mobility? Perhaps not. Nicer digs? Oh but yes!
Having recently left the chewing-gum, pork rind, malt beverage-clad streets of Harlem (on the heels of a murder in an altogether too-close self proximity), I find myself in the somewhat cleaner, ritzier, glitzier belly of Brooklyn Heights. I traded my view of the GW toll road, for a million dollar view of the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan skyline. Instead of an all-night Mexican karaoke bar next door to me, I now have a French cafe, and fine meats butcher.
Point made: it seems I live in a nice neighborhood now, which greatly increases my daily ease and comfort, while greatly decreasing my daily fear for life. Two steps forward, one step back: now that I have a laundry facility in my building, I have no excuse for dropping my laundry off at the fluff and fold.