
I have a thing for small houses. Love small houses. There is a great neighborhood near our new apartment full of the cutest little houses.

I think a batty old art teacher must live in this one.

For the past few years, Twin and I have talked about the mythical "little cottage" of our dreams, which will have tiny shutters and two dormer windows and a wee little chimney pot. So cute you could puke--this is what we are aiming for.
Our new apartment is a house-apartment-cottage sort of thing. A step in the right direction. And now that every last box is unpacked (yippeee!), now comes the fun part. Also the slightly overwhelming part, as I think about which curtains need to be hemmed and which windows need new curtains all together, how to work the darn drill and the ever-mysterious location of studs, and what my new bedroom will look like, as I have graduated to a grown-up big-girl bed (or returned to it, having been forced to sleep in a twin bed the last few years thanks to the closet-size of my Brooklyn bedroom). The plans are amorphous and I just need to sit down and start somewhere, anywhere, and I'll pick up some momentum. It is exciting. I'm pumping myself up for this, can you tell?
Kitchen curtains. That's the place to start. I've got the fabric all picked out.