
I’m working in suburban Chicago, but until I find a place to live I’m sleeping a couple hours north in Kenosha, Wisconsin. The awesome Lizz the Librarian spends so much of her workday staring into glowing rectangles that she’s chosen not to bring any home with her. It’s unnerving. I vaguely understand the theory. She’s also a minimalist who makes conscious decisions about the stuff she brings into her life. This explains why her apartment belongs on the cover of Shabby Chique magazine while mine looks like a Victorian library was forced to merge into a Planetarium Gift Shop with…






