The Bungalow

On December 11, I marked six months at my current job. Which means that I've been living with my folks for over six months now. This past summer, when D. and I first came up to NY from Philly, we moved in with my parents as a temporary solution. We were going to save money, not pay exorbitant rent in NY, D. could work on changing careers, we could spend some QT with my family - it was great (and I naively told D. that I was totally sure we would be all moved in to a place we would buy in three months - tops). We had our sublet in Philly available for weekend trips, kept our summer clothes in my old closet at my parents', moved everything else into their garage, and promised my mother she'd have her garage back before the first snowfall.

We were focused on the Bronx in the beginning of our search - it is one of the last un-gentrified areas in NY, works for a commute to Manhattan, where my job is, and is a half-hour from my parents'. As I've learned these past few months, EVERYONE has an opinion on where you should live - whether they know you or not; know your financial situation or not; know your goals or not. But we did hear a few recommendations for certain neighborhoods and checked them out. We eventually focused in on one neighborhood that had a number of tiny houses for sale. It was right near the water, had a private walk by Long Island Sound, and was a well-priced working class neighborhood. The houses had been built as bungalows in the early 20th century - 'vacation homes' for Manhattanites.

After looking at about seven houses there, we narrowed it down to two, and then decided we were willing to do work, but not as much work as one would require, so made an offer on the other. We got a counter offer and accepted. This was early August. We were on our way to reaching my in-and-out-in-under-three-month goal.

The week after we made the offer, D. successfully changed careers and accepted a job offer with a firm in New Jersey. So - we realized - the commute from the East Bronx wouldn't be great for him, but we would deal. Then we got the house inspected. I wasn't there (D. went with his brother and the inspector), so was really curious to see what they would find. Well - the roof wasn't up to code, there were no gutters so rain fell into the wall, and D. watched as the inspector was able to push an outside wall in like a piece of cardboard. We didn't make an immediate decision but, about a week later (after stalling on the mortgage application and postponing an appointment), just looked at each other and decided to nix it. We withdrew our offer, declined the realtor's requests to show us more houses in the neighborhood, and breathed a sigh of relief... except now fall was approaching and were starting from the beginning.