Apartment Envy

images1.jpg Saturday night, I dreamed of finding two bedrooms attached to my apartment that I didn’t know about. When I woke up, I was so disappointed to see that I still live in a studio.

My husband and I have shared it for two years, and I think it’s a testament to our get-along-ability that we haven’t killed each other, but lately, I’ve started to feel crammed and really crave more s p a c e.

Part of my stir-crazy is from nights where he hasn’t been able to fall asleep till 3 a.m. and I’ve woken up from his frustrated antics. It’s also the subway, packing into a rush hour sardine can, while being asked for money by not one, but three homeless, on your way to work, has started to make me shout things like “I hate people” as I make my way through. Yeesh, not good.

I’ve slowly been looking at real estate listings, but it’s crazy, man, what it costs to live in NYC. So on top of the space craving, now I suddenly want to make sh*tloads of money so I can buy some more rooms! But don’t even get me started on what the price of a one-bedroom will buy you elsewhere. I can’t move out of here, meaning, NYC…unless the other place is really compelling and requires no cars. If only North Adams had more nonwhite people…

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