I slept on it, and it’s clear I should not have applied for that fab apartment. I just can’t risk the rent going up next year. So I withdrew my application this morning and am back to square one. As I continue on my quest, I’m going to keep a few things in mind:
- I’m young. Too young to actually love the Manhattan apartment I live in. These are the years to garner the quirky stories of what’s it like for newlyweds and two cats to live in a one-bedroom apartment, to have three of the four stove burners not function, to have a malfunctioning kitchen light that can’t be fixed because your super’s phone has been disconnected and you don’t know which unit she lives in, to live across the street from a police station and a fire station and get used to the constant sirens. Someday, I’ll look back on these annoyances with fondness. Maybe.
- Despite all of the above, this apartment was actually a good find. And you know how I decided on it? It was the cheapest one I had looked at on my apartment hunt two years ago. That was the selling point. Because it definitely wasn’t pretty when I viewed it (the last occupant had been a smoker—there were actually soot marks outlining the spots where pictures had been). Maybe I need to be thinking like that again.
- Paint can do wonders. I should know this from my years at home decorating publications. A coat of paint is the easiest, cheapest way to change the character of a room. Maybe that’s all it takes to make a place feel like home.
- We’d like to buy a house or apartment someday. Isn’t it worth living in slightly less than fabulous apartments for a few years if it means we can be putting away money toward our own place?
- I need to trust my gut. Not my eyes.


