I am always so flattered by what the working-artist babysitters have to say about my train wreck of an apartment. They say things like “it’s a grown up apartment” “a functioning home” and “Pillows! I aspire to pillows!” while I am unfortunately preoccupied with thoughts of; Why do we rent a floor through when this friend and that friend own whole brownstones? There is a galley kitchen in my living room which is also my dining room which is also the playroom. The couch in front of the only TV is our guest bedroom. I wish I had a washer-dryer, &/or a deck, &/or a second floor, &/or a foyer, &/or coat closet &/or a linen closet…
And yet…
OMG!
WE LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY!