I'm back to report that I eagerly romped around with other eager house-hungry American Apparel/Anthropologie types through the open house held in that seemingly charming shingle home posted below. I thought I could love that place, no matter what, but today am coming to grips with this: the Guff is empty in Brooklyn real estate in what might quite nearly be almost my price-range (if I put out for money-wielding strangers who fancy moms wearing dirty American Apparel and Anthropologie sale items and eyewear from many a yesteryear.)
I won't post any heartwrenching photos, only give you this: where there were mantles, there are now only outlets. They are not even grounded outlets. The children couldn't even hang the Christmas stockings out over a semi-attractive space heater. No, we'd be looking at a toaster placed neatly on the plasticated 'Q' grade wood floors for the holidays to warm our newly Brooklynified Utah assies while I, being Ma and what not, would be in charge of pushing the lever down every three minutes.
So, I am now going to cheer us up with these before and after photos of my present co-op kitchen that is 6' x 12' (yes, people in the West, you read that right) and remind me that I worked that Ikea software to a nub to design the most efficient, workable kitchen pos. I turned it into an EIK, I did! (If you have to ask, consider yourself blessed and chosen.)
Now, on a surely metaphoresque note, an SUV fell into a pothole in Brooklyn today and ruined the 'R' train below. It's a very confusing scenario, but I feel it is meaningful on some levels not yet reachable to my lax, unlimber mind.
This I know: co-op life continues and Brooklyn continues. And it's alright.