NESTING
Harriet was trying to explain to Sport how to play town. “See first you make up the name of the town. Then you write down the names of all the people who live in it. You can’t have too many or it gets too hard. I usually have twenty-five.”
That’s the opening of Harriet the Spy, and from it I’ve always extrapolated a really neat fantasy of what suburban living is like. Mostly, that there should be one of everything: one doctor, one mechanic, one librarian; one clinic, one gas station, one library, etc.
I’ve been lucky enough to have only ever resided in fully furnished apartments since moving out of my college dorms in 2007. This means that I am completely disenfranchised, in the best way. I don’t own anything but books and clothes. I had a bike for a while, but it was stolen, which is fine — I never rode it.
I looked at an apartment this morning, which I just described in an email as ”bitty but adorable; looks like a tidy milliner should live there.” I really hope this works out. This apartment has many fine features, but what I’m primarily excited about is the prospect of purchasing — and finally owning! — one of everything: one plate, one cup, one fork, one chair.
