I read an article recently detailing the sale of NYC's "skinniest house", which has garnered a pricetag the sum of which would have me convulsing in happiness if I'd been the owner. The red brick wonder, measuring just 8 and 1/2 feet wide and 42 feet deep, is on the market for a cool (hefty) $2.7 million.
The mind boggles.
I've always been aware that living in New York City is tantamount to balancing on the edge of poverty while living in a closet - Toronto is bad enough. But this led me to tracking down more of these anorexic homesteads in other fashionable cities I could never afford. They all seem to have been erected within alleyways, tucked away like a secret you'd never notice.
As small and impractical as these houses seem to be... I can't help but find them utterly adorable. And an incentive to keep my waistline.
