u s e y o u r h a n d s

I checked my voicemail this a.m. and got the word that I landed one of the strangest apartments in Lincoln Square. And I couldn’t be happier.

Lincoln Square is located in the vicinity of Western and Lawrence and is home to the Old Town School of Folk Music and the diminishing seat of Chicago’s German community. After just falling in love with Andersonville, why venture south? I hadn’t even ventured in to Lincoln Square until dinner last week with Rachael. After a good movie, yummy Greek food, and some pinot grigio, I looked around and felt so pleased, so excited. So, now I’m going to live there.

My apartment is right by the Davis and within spitting distance of yummy sammich place Costello’s. I’ve got an entire floor in a house. There’s a backyard, a shed for storage, and laundry. The door opens into a little foyer with another door in front and to the right. Go to the right. The living room is good-size and fronts on the street. The windows are high enough so as to prevent people climbing in them. Turn down the short hallway. On your left, I’ve got several large built-in cabinets with glass doors. They sold me on this place. The bathroom is small, but features a roll-rim claw-foot bathtub. I am a bath person.

The bedroom is up ahead on the left and is literally the smallest bedroom I have ever seen. But that’s fine. It’s womb-like. Hey, what’s that door? Oh, shit. It’s the closet. The closet is this random, inexplicable nook you could never find in a modern building. I envision a settee.

Here’s my plan: run curtain rods around the entire room. Tightly blouse hot pink fabric around the entire room, covering up the window. Jam in ultra-plush double bed covered in black velvet duvet. High thread-count sheets (in pink). Lacy design out of rhinestones hot glued on to ceiling. Fairy lights.

But here’s why I rented the apartment. The kitchen is probably over 200 square feet. It’s the largest kitchen ever. And, like my current setup, it’s got a small oven, but also a small fridge. I was dismayed until the owner said out of the blue, “You know, you can totally cook a 22 lb. turkey in there.” And that’s what got me.

The whole vision of me as an adult? As the earth mother/bon vivant passing around wine and food at a party in my house? It’s going to happen here. And when it does, I hope you’ll be there.

I’m turning 25 on November 25. I think that’s two days before T-Day this year, but bookmark Saturday the 22nd. There will be a turkey. There will be eclectic sides. There will be wine. And in the middle, I’ll be there, beaming.

Where can I buy gloves? Gloves that you’d wear to tea.