Oh? You need a pep talk? Me too.
"Looks like there's only room enough for a mattress on the floor," you will say. "Everything has to go."
And then you will come to your senses, prodded gently, if you're lucky, by a supportive partner. You will realize that 3/4 of your boxes contain kitchen junk. You will begin to unpack those boxes, carefully unwrapping everything from newspaper. You will curse yourself for using newspaper in the first place. You will put dishes into cabinets covered in black smudges because you need them to be put away and this is not the time to be testing the plumbing.
You will realize there is just one way that the furniture fits into the space. You will slide it into place. You will split up your bedroom set, you will shove one chair into the closet and your kitchen table to the curb. You will find a new kitchen table on some other curb. You will carry it home. You will make yourself a cup of tea and realize that you're home.
Until that happens, the hunt will feel overwhelming.
We're in it now, friends: desperately seeking a moderately less tiny apartment. We are toying with the idea of moving away from our idyllic neighborhood to be closer to family and work. We are scanning endless apartment listings and meeting with smug brokers who tell us that our price range is impossible. They remind us that we're looking for an apartment in New York, as if that means that magically means we have money oozing from our ears. And suggest preposterous things like "maybe you could raise your budget and go out to dinner several fewer times each month." Ah yes, we've been meaning to kick that Per Se habit.
But we're holding on. Because one day soon, we'll find another tiny apartment that's just the right size for us. We'll unpack our dishes and rearrange the furniture and everything will fall into place, just like it did before. Same goes for you.
Photo found here, of course.
Tiny Apartment Survival Tips 1-82. (And some practical advice if that's what you're after.)