I know, it happens every day. Someone up and leaves this bucolic neighborhood with its high rents, its many strollers, and its multitude of coffee shops.

But for some reason the blogs are afire with news of Daryl Lang’s reasons for leaving Park Slope. Why is that?

Well, Lang has a cool blog called History Eraser Button and he writes marketing copy for a living, has a background in journalism and, as he says on his blog, “I know a lot about the Internet.”

Bingo.

So, this guy’s well-articulated reasons for leaving Park Slope are making news today. The truth is, he’s got some interesting things to say and he says them well. And maybe he’s a little bit right. The neighborhood is changing and not for the better. He doesn’t want to be the local grouch so he’s going. I’m pretty sure people aren’t much friendlier in Manhattan’s financial district,where he’s headed. Whatever. The exodus begins. One of the most over-hyped neighborhoods in America is facing the backlash. Again.

I am leaving Park Slope because I am increasingly impatient with people too socially deficient to act like good neighbors. People who won’t spare five seconds to help an old lady. People who can’t figure out their way around without checking their iPhones. People who don’t say hi to the neighbors with whom they share a stoop. These things are getting noticeably worse. Rather than stew here and become the local grouch, I’m recognizing that I have passed my expiration date in this neighborhood. Time to exit gracefully.

When I moved to the Slope 8 years ago, the place had a reputation as a friendly neighborhood, especially as a haven for lesbians, writers and young parents. I remember walking through Prospect Park in autumn 2002 and seeing dads in fleece pullovers playing with their kids on the swings. “Those guys look like me in 10 years,” I thought, feeling as if I’d found long-term home. The kids were precocious, but there was a Lake Wobegone-style charm to this urban neighborhood where all the children were above average. Today Park Slope has a different reputation. It’s become an insane pleasure island for new parents with no adult social skills. It’s a place where it’s acceptable to be a mom or a dad and stay up until dawn drinking Jack-and-Cokes on the roof of a warehouse. You pay your dues to the Food Co-Op or the CSA not out of any sense of social responsibility, but as absolution for staying out too late on a Thursday eating wings.