When I open my apartment door in the morning, the first thing I see is my leaning near the shoe rack. My kitchen is tiny, and is a daily puzzle. I keep my rarely-used winter hats—one , one —folded on the highest , next to things I almost forget I own. Living in the city means everything must have its place.
早晨，当我打开公寓门时，我首先看到的是靠在鞋架旁边的扫帚。 我的厨房很小，储物是个日常难题。 我把很少戴的冬帽——一顶羊绒的，一顶灯芯绒的——叠起来放在最高层架上，旁边是一些我几乎忘了拥有的东西。 住在城市意味着每样东西都必须有它的位置。
On Saturdays, my become a slow routine. I the floor, then while listening to street sounds from the window. Sometimes I look at the old coats in storage and wonder if I should finally give them away. There is a strange comfort in these small activities. In such a busy place, quiet chores help me feel at home, even when there isn’t much space for anything extra.
到了周六，我的家务变成了一种缓慢的例行公事。 我扫地，然后洗衣，同时听着窗外的街市声音。 有时我看着储藏室里的旧外套，想知道是否该把它们送走了。 这些小小的活动带来一种奇特的慰藉。 在这样一个繁忙的地方，安静的家务让我有归属感，即使空间并不宽裕。
