Coming up on the five-year anniversary of our move to New York City, I find myself experiencing a little nostalgia for space. I was rummaging through old photos from the past decade, and I realized two things. I am older now, and I need another room.
On temperate days, I long to be outside in the city, taking in the sights, stimulating my creativity, and feeling the nonstop energy that pulses in Manhattan. On cold, rainy, and windy days, I long to be inside my cozy New York apartment—writing, watching television, or cooking.
For the most part, I find the 825 square feet comfortable and sufficient. If I had the opportunity to add one more room, undoubtedly it would be another bathroom. I’d also love the storage, but if needed, I could rent that space elsewhere.
|Our New York bathroom|
Mike and I lived with one bath in our early years together. After we became violently ill one time with food poisoning, we made a pact that we’d never own a home with one loo again. Obviously, this changed. At that moment, we had no idea that we’d move to Manhattan, the land of single baths. Hence, here we are, back to the one bath situation dating back to 1999. At least our current johnny is big enough for two. Some New York baths aren’t fit for my cat.
With three full-sized and a powder room in the Atlanta house, I had my pick depending on mood or time of day. Choices. It was all about choices. Five years later and 2.5 baths less, it’s still about the choices. I choose New York, but I would prefer New York with another comfort station in my midst.
Until I hit the lottery or become a world-famous blogger, one toilette will have to do. At least it’s a Toto.
|Photo by Unlisted Sightings, Courtesy of Flickr|