Two things lately: weekends away and a lackluster apartment search for a place to stretch our legs, just a little bit. Both have made me feel all kinds of fierce about our tiny abode and our tiny block.
New York City is really just a collection of tiny villages. And as we’ve started to talk about the possibility of wanting just a touch more space, I realize that I’m about as provincial as they come. I don’t really like the idea of looking for an apartment on another street, let alone another neighborhood. Don’t get me started on James’s repeated mention of an entire island swap.
Last night, twinkling string lights and open windows and blankets to keep off the chill. Who would want to leave fairyland?