Ode to not-our apartment

Last week, in the mist of my daily hunts around the NYC real estate market, I came upon a too-good-to-be-true listing.

A true one bedroom in Gramercy Park. A mere block away from the park itself. An incredible location. A small building with only a few units. A high floor. Central A/C. 

And more than anything, substantially under market value.

I made some calls and found that the unit had just gone on the market that very day, but they wouldn't have access to show the apartment until the next morning.

The next day, Jared trekked over from his office at noon.

(Please note that, at my insistence, has checked out 2 other apartments in the vicinity in recent weeks, and they have been laughably bitty and completely undoable for 2 people accustomed to space in NJ).

He called me at 12:15.

It was NICE.

I was shocked.

To be honest, I was fearful.

Logistically it's not the best time for us to move - it would be too soon, and too much would have to be sorted out, and part of me was hoping this apartment would be just as horrific as all the others, and I vowed if it was, I would STOP hunting for real estate dammit. I would STOP and I would wait until 6 months from now when we're actually ready to make the move.

But no.

It's NICE, he said.

Shit, I said.

The living room was large.

There was a fireplace. And exposed brick. 

The kitchen was small but doable. 

There were enough windows and it was bright and sunny.

It had a walk in closet.

The bedroom was big enough for a queen bed! And nightstands! And a dresser!

Crap, I said.

I think we should do it, he said. Can you come in and look at it?

I called the management company to see if they'd be able to show it to me again this evening.

Before I even finished saying the address of the building the lady said, It's no longer available.

What? My husband was just there, I said. He just saw it. They've only been showing it for 3 hours.

Someone just submitted an application, lady dream-killer said. It's no longer available.

And we are still in mourning.

And when Jared came home and showed me pictures he'd taken I was even sadder.

Because it WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING OURS.

But not.

Damn you NYC real estate. Damn you. Damn.