Finding an apartment in New York is a high-stress, frustrating endeavor. I've started attending broker appointments expecting to be disappointed. In fact, my aunt and I visited two apartments today and both were duds. Fortunately, I'm comfortable in my corner of Tokii's living room, but how long can I live on an air mattress and out of suitcases and boxes? Luckily, I feel like our friendship is pretty invincible. My relationship with her is truly something I will never doubt. I am also comforted by the fact that my living situation could always be worse.
My aunt and I found an apartment last night that we really like. It is a large convertible two-bedroom in a pre-war building in Woodside (Queens), two blocks from the train, and 15-minutes to Grand Central on the 7 for $1200 a month. On the corner of the street (and from the train station), there is a gorgeous skyline view of Manhattan.
What's the catch? Well, the previous tenant of 40 years just died, and the apartment is not yet on the market. We didn't actually see his apartment, but rather an identical apartment of a friend of my aunt just a few floors below. One of her neighbors is close with the super so he is going to see if we can get the apartment after the old man's family divides his estate and before it actually goes on the market. I feel badly though that the apartment that might best suit our needs might only be possible for our family at the tragic expense of another's.
I was talking to Tokii about the apartment and the unfortunate circumstances while she was washing dishes last night. As she leaned over the sink to put a little muscle into the pot she was scrubbing, she said nonchalantly, "You know, I've heard of a lot of people checking obituaries for leads on apartments."