It turns out it was lofted bed week here on Brick. We didn't set out to feature so many apartments that require climbs up to their sleeping spaces, but in New York, they're rather plentiful.
There was the full-height sleeping loft in this Greenwich Village studio (complete with built-in storage space underneath) that was featured as this week's Small Wonder, the death-defying sleeping loft of this "Only in New York" Midtown studio, and then, somewhere in between those two, the sleeping loft featured in this week's Take It Or Leave it column, in an Upper West Side brownstone apartment.
All these apartments reminded us of a pretty funny post we ran way back in 2011, entitled "Can I still respect myself if I sleep on a shelf?" That should probably be the name of a book of short stories about New Yorkers' first living experiences.
The author is a glass-half-full type of woman:
"My room’s arrangement—a mini-living room set up on the main floor, mattress on the shelf—is like a suburban home, where bedtime means getting off the couch and going upstairs to my room. My bird's-eye view makes me feel secure. I like that there’s no reason or practical way to make my bed, beyond folding my comforter and plopping it down. I like that my bed’s out of sight so I’m not tempted into a nap when I enter my room with work to do, on a rainy afternoon."
But she's also a realist:
"It's hard to make peace with the fact that I’m 26 years old and sleep on a shelf.
"What makes it even less defensible is that I’m not living this way so I can afford to live in a trendy neighborhood. I actually live in a semi-industrial part of Brooklyn, on an unattractive, noisy street. And I don’t sleep on a shelf so I can afford to live close to work. My commute lasts 50 minutes each way and usually involves strangers’ bodies pressed up against me.
"I know that genuine friends won’t think less of me because of my financial/living situation, but I fear that those who don’t fully understand my circumstances (or the cost of living in New York) may look at my bedroom and conclude that I haven’t tried very hard, planned very well, or that something I did wrong has landed me in a tree-house."
In New York City, a true friend is on who doesn't judge you for living off of a shelf.
Besides, it could be worse: You could be in LA, fending off a creeper. As one commenter on the post this week put it:
I'm a Queens girl trying to escape a shady, creepy roommate in LA this morning and am really envying that shelf. At least she dwells in a tree house alone, right, folks?
Don't worry. One day you will have a better apartment that is not in a bird's nest and then you will not sleep on a shelf. (Pats her shoulder; steps off train)