1999
It hadn't even been a day since the New York Times printed an article about our home and already the phone was ringing off the hook. "This is so crazy!" Jae groaned. "Maybe we shouldn't have agreed to that piece." She slumped down with exhaustion on our battered green couch. The piece she was talking about was an article written about our home--a warehouse in Williamsburgh, tucked neatly between the East River and the Con Edison Energy plant. Picturesque, barely but affordable, yes. After a week of photographers and a couple of days of interviews, we were all psyched to see the result in full color. What we didn't count on, quite naively, was that our fellow city dwellers were acute enough to pick up that one of us were moving out. The phone calls were flooding in, because in the end, what that meant was, we'd have an extra room to rent. The phone rang again. "I'm not getting it!" Jae declared, "I give up!" "I'll get ...