12 STERLINGAt ten to seven on Wednesday night, I take one last glance around my flat. It hasn’t been this spotlessly clean since . . . well, ever, probably. I straightened, dusted, vacuumed, and sanitized for the last hour and a half.
My balcony, which was the whole reason I bought this place, has been transformed. Over the weekend, I picked up a soft blue outdoor rug with tassels on the ends, along with several large throw pillows in navy and cream. They’re scattered about on the rug, and an overturned basket sits in the center—a makeshift table that holds a bottle of wine and two glasses.
The couple of plants I’ve had out here since I moved in were dead, so I replaced those too. Two large pine-tree-shaped shrubs sit in gold pots and are decorated with white twinkle lights. The city lig
