Renting

More Than 88,000 People Apply for 55 Affordable Apartments in “Poor Door” Building

Each potential applicant has an approximate 0.06 percent chance of getting one of these affordable apartments.

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Places I’ve Lived: Monster House, Single-Women-Only Complex, & More

There was an infestation of squirrels in the home. Teeth marks still scarred the built-ins.

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In Which I Learn That My Dream Apartment Might Be Affordable

This week, I saw a sign listing apartments for rent and the unit prices, and I realized that I could actually afford to live there.

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A Catalog of My Worst Apartment Hunts

Having lived in New York City for nearly a decade (in six separate residences), I’m convinced that the only variety of New York apartment hunt is the soul-crushingly terrible one.

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Near a Drug Front in Montreal, a Two-Bedroom in L.A. With Five People, and Other Places I’ve Lived

In Montreal, many apartments are floors of a former single-family home, and have stairs on the outside as a result. Our landlord liked to perch on this staircase, literally right outside of my window, and argue with various contractors.

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38 Roommates in 10 years

I moved out of my parent’s house in the fall of 2005, and since then I have moved 19 times and had 10 different mailing addresses.

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The Hunt for a Place of My Own

“You have six months to find your own place,” my godmother, Kimmie, says.

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Lessons Learned From Condo Life

I bought my first home in 2012—way earlier than I ever expected to—with the help of a clutchcity program designed to get people like me into permanent taxpayer status. As a first-time homeowner I had a dream house in mind (two stories, kitchen island, guest bedroom, backyard, puppy), but as a 28-year-old who had only ever rented and who earned a salary low enough to qualify for down-payment assistance, all the reasonable voices in my life (my mother, real estate agents, lenders) kept suggesting a condo might be a better way to make the transition from renter to homeowner.

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Better(ish) Living With Roommates

I have only lived alone once, and it was not by choice. When I was a senior in college, my boyfriend broke up with me over the phone from San Diego, saddling me with a lovely studio apartment with an eat-in kitchen, lots of sun, and a rent payment that I couldn’t really afford. I paid my rent using a loan that I am still most likely paying off, and spent a lot of that long winter marooned on my bed eating frozen grapes and watching the Food Network, since I refused to cancel the expensive cable. I lived there for the whole year, alone, but was too sulky to appreciate what I had.

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