It began, as so many great New York love stories do, with an ad on Craigslist. I wasn’t seeking a man, but an apartment, and this one sounded ideal: A charming studio in a former carriage house located in the heart of Chelsea. And then, two words that can stop any city girl’s heart: Courtyard garden.
“It’s like living in Europe,” the ad promised. I clicked on the photos and swooned at the sight of exposed brick and hardwood floors. After e-mailing the realtor, I announced to my friends with great solemnity. “I found the place where I am going to live.”
The last time I’d had that feeling was when I glimpsed my old apartment, a roomy one-bedroom in Astoria, Queens. I saw sweet black-and-white checkered kitchen tile, six large windows, abundant sunlight. “This is it,” I said and it was, for a while. Read more… Keep reading »