We haven’t taken exact measurements, but our new space hovers somewhere near 400 square feet and sits four flights up in the space above the cornice of a brownstone just a block away from our old place. We’ve basically moved into Sara Crewe’s garret room, minus—we’re hoping—the rats and gruel and plus a tiny view of the Manhattan skyline. It’s gonna be just right for a tiny Junebug.
We began making our slow move this weekend. We mopped the floor, then mopped again. We scrubbed on hands and knees and scraped paint off of filthy bathroom tiles and dingy grout from door jambs. We removed rotting closet shelves and replaced them with fresh boards that we’ve painted sparkly white. We’ve begun plotting larger improvements and made decisions about what things we’re going to leave well enough alone. We’ve brewed a pot of coffee and lit candles and hauled plants up 4 flights to start making the place look lived in. My sweet parents strapped our beloved vintage headboard to the roof of their car, threw a pot of lentil soup in the trunk, and trekked to the city to deliver both kinds of housewarming.
Thanks so much to all of you for your persistent good cheer as we’ve searched for a new tiny space to call our own. They’ll be lots more to report on as we settle in, but for now, we’ve found a space big enough for a baby to grow in, which is the most important thing.