Two weekends ago I moved out of my summer sublet and into an attic apartment the new roommate and I have dubbed the Sky Parlor. I’ve yet to unpack, partially because I’m overwhelmed by all the boxes and partially because roommate and I have half-formed plans to build this in our kitchen:
Want. Via Hindsvik.
What’s the use of unpacking and putting things on shelves, really, if we’re just going to have to move them all again?
The Sky Parlor is lovely, full of light and breeze, except I can’t figure out how to turn the oven on. I grew up with electric kitchen appliances, and I’m terrified that too much messing around might result in a flaming ball of natural gas.
What I’m trying to say is that if I don’t show up to my new job tomorrow, you should probably call the gas company and see if there have been any explosions.