After a brief emailing back and forth with a friend about something important-ish, and with whom it's easy to fall into ridiculous, quick-volley, email banter - we were tossing around second and third house location choices {you do this, right? The country house in France, the Island house in Tahiti...)
- Me: no Palm Springs good w/ with renting.
- Her: wanna go in on a house in Ojai? Only been there once but liked it.
- Me: no, unless it's SF. I'm not doing anymore California houses. I need an NYC flat first.
- Her: Already on that.
- Me: Neighborhoods? Mine would be West Village or Meat Packing
- Her: Of course, that's why we're friends.
Then, she sends me the link to this Fing fantastic pre-war one bedroom PERFECTION!!! I don't need a lot. I'm going to be spending a month at most there.
I love everything about it. This is all I need. A slice. A sliver.... with personality on top. Holy jezus, built ins? inlayed floors? Transoms? My knees grow weak.
I don't even need a big bathroom. Who cares? so long as it's clean.
I've been so, mentally design battered by the newness of So Cal. spaces. Something like this just makes me salivate and want to cry all at once. This is the part where some NYer chimes in with something to try and dissuade me from my dream. Hey, dream snatcher? Don't do it. I'm totally in love. And I hear NY gets earthquakes these days, so I'll feel right at home.
Here's the link. And if you buy it, please let me come and stay for a night or at least let's sit in the communal back yard, drink a beer and relish in your little pinch of the island.
