to B or not to BnB

What’s Yours Was Mine: An Airbnb Review: By

[…]Which brings me to your day planner, in the poorly locked top drawer of the desk. Who is “Q”? You and s/he sure seem to have had a lot of dinners last month, plus that long weekend in the Pfalz. And “N”? To be honest, Elfriede, you seem kind of overcommitted. There are all sorts of people out there, not all of whom will understand you. Take, for instance, the dark-chocolate-orange Häagen-Dazs in your freezer. It’s my favorite flavor. And my choice refreshment is the Lagavulin that I see you’ve stored behind the stylish garments in your closet. Coincidence?

Sad_Ice_Cream_by_AdventDeo

via What’s Yours Was Mine: An Airbnb Review – The New Yorker.

Smart little ditty that encapsulates why Airbnb gives me the heebie-jeebies.

I finally used AirBnB as a guest for the first time a little bit ago. The hardest thing for me was not trying on the person’s shoes. I understand that sounds gross & weird, because it completely is. She just had a lovely collection that kept staring at me from the hallway. I pointedly ignored the faint, raspy whispers.. “Liiiiiisa. We’re just your size. I bet we’d be cuuuute on yooou. We just missssss feeeeeet.”

Asshole manipulative adorable shoes. I didn’t touch them, thank god, because I don’t need to be that person. We actually had quite a perfect Airbnb experience, so I highly recommend it (and by it, I really only mean one person’s apartment in Brooklyn, because that’s all I know).

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