When you move from most anywhere in the world to the vicinity of New York City, the price tag on just about everything doubles and you learn to make do with less space and, simply, with less, in general. Unless you’re related to the Rockefellas or the Goodfellas!
I still remember driving around North Shore Long Island eight years ago as Hubs and I decided to search for our first house. We had rented for more than three years when we got the memo that the monthly rent would double when he no longer served as a resident [Attendings didn’t get the same breaks.] We knew it was time to become a home owner. Not sure which, if any, home we could afford, but we had to try.
So we drove around different neighborhoods within a ten-mile radius of Hubby’s job. Because we hoped we could find something that would at least cut out the commute time out of his day. Hearing him tell me he dozed off at the wheel after working all night during residency one too many times had me convinced that we had to be a hop, skip and a jump from the hospital. Little else mattered. Continue reading