I move a lot. Because of the nature of my job (freelance writer), I was in five countries over three continents this month. I have to pack, unpack, and move rooms every few days. When I'm on an assignment, I usually stay in a hotel. When I'm not, I often stay with my sweet, accommodating partner who has rearranged his entire bedroom to create a writing nook for me. But even he knows what I long for. It's not a hotel or a nice apartment with designer furniture.
My dream home was on Hope Street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, in an apartment I shared with five roommates one fall. Though I moved out only a season after I moved in (I got a job that required me to relocate), I miss it every day. My boyfriend will still snap a photo of my old building and send it to me when he walks past it; he knows it makes me smile in an instant. Basically, living with the five roommates—Maddy, Tommy, Amy, Harrison, and Julian—made me feel like I had crowdsourced my life to a bunch of people who were experts in things I was still learning to be good at, and that made all the difference. And though it may sound like a total nightmare to some people, it was actually the best living situation I've had in my entire life. Here's why:
from Apartment Therapy | Saving the world, one room at a time https://ift.tt/2Omfo8c
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