I want to be a Melendy. Nevermind the fact that I am a 35-year-old woman and that they fictitiously lived in the 1940s. I want to hang out in "The Office," the Melendy siblings' attic hangout complete with a saggy sofa, a trapeze swing, a piano and shelves and shelves of books. I want to traipse around New York City when $1.60 could buy a serious adventure.
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