Area woman Aisha Mitri is processing the brutal reality that she will never live in a tiny little mushroom house. “It just doesn’t seem fair. Sure, I may not be a little field mouse wearing a skirt made out of tulip petals, but damn it, I want to live in a miniature toadstool cottage!” lamented Mitri, who lives in a hulking, concrete atrocity of an apartment building, constructed in the late eighties by some soulless real estate firm. “All I want is itty bitty oak furniture and even smaller hand-woven doilies. And yeah, it would be nice to drink a single drop of water out of a dollhouse teacup, if that’s not too much to ask.” At press time, Mitri had moved on from her mushroom cottage pipedream and was trying to decide whether or not she could fit a gothic, Victorian-era library into her 12 by 12-foot living room.

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