Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Best things... small packages... really?

Having moved into a shoebox, I no longer believe the maxim.

We're paying 20% more for a place which is not even on stilts over the Pacific (I know, your heart bleeds for us doesn't it?). What's worse it is less than half the size of our beach pad. Ouch.

TLOML and I asked a New Yorker 'Isn't this crazily small? Aren't we paying an insanely high rent?' and she shook her head sagely and said with an air of resignation, 'This is what a New York one bedroom is like'.

Then she gave TLOML and I a look of pure pity for all the time we spent in California being softened up, and accumulating possessions a New Yorker would never dream of. The surfboard and the oversized clubchair are just two examples of things that almost literally don't fit into our apartment.

Still, living in a box is at least forcing us to be creative. Windowsills serve as bookshelves, and a much loved painting we have no space to hang is being used as a sort of screen around my desk. Our funky old medicine cabinet is being converted into a spice rack, which will practically double the kitchen storage space.

I like moving in somewhere, organising, establishing a system of sorts and hanging art. So I'm enjoying these little creative moments very much. But the shoebox just isn't getting any bigger.

Every time I leave the apartment or even look out of the window, I say 'I love New York!'. And with roughly the same frequency I'm coining the cheering phrase 'We won't be here forever!'. I say it every time I have to use my entire body weight to close the doors of what has become known as The Cupboard of Doom. (2 Malibu closets into 1 New York closet just doesn't go).

Still saying I love New York though...

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