Since I’m independently wealthy and don’t need to do actual work, I find myself with a lot of spare time on my hands. In fact, I am one of those ladies who lunches. These meals, generally taken with friends of my ilk, last hours, sometimes even days, and involve lots of sparkling convo and bubbly alcohol.
Anyway, while I was returning from one of these epic lunches to my office, which is really just the place where I keep all my pencils, I noticed there was a very small house planted in City Hall Park. I thought it might be a domicile of one of the many soot-covered transients who make their home in our fair green space. However, upon further examination, I discovered that the house was not in fact part of some pop-up Hooverville, but rather it was Art. With a capital “a.”
This is what my new home looks like.