Listen, 30 is quickly becoming the new 20, especially in New York City—and especially when it comes to apartment hunting. You finally have a steady job, a grown-up relationship (or not!) and something resembling a respectable income, so you can now hunt for a place to live with a little more knowledge than when you first ventured into the city. As 30-year-olds, we have a lower tolerance for apartment problems like noisy neighbors and heat that only sometimes-kinda works, along with an IDGAF attitude when it comes to making friends with the roomie. Read on for 21 ways apartment hunting changes from your 20s to your 30s:
20s: Ah, it’s close to a convenient all-night bodega for drinks, smokes and other late-night needs.
30s: Who the hell is buzzing the door at 10:30pm?
20s: It’s near a dog park? Yes!
30s: It’s near a dog park? Yes! Also, fuck, there’s kids.
20s: Sure, I will convert this walk-in closet to a bedroom.
30s: This bedroom doesn’t have a closet? Hell. No.
20s: Sixth-floor walk-up? Cool. No need for a gym membership
30s: Sixth-floor walk-u—YEAH RIGHT.
20s: No fee! No fee! No fee! JACKPOT!
30s: This is a scam. RUN!
20s: No doorman, no problem.
30s: When there is a wedding registry, there must be a doorman.
20s: YES. These roommates are so cool and like to party.
30s: Shit. These roommates are so cool and like to party.
20s: Great, I can fit cases of beer in that foyer area near the door.
30s: Great, I can fit cases of formula in that foyer area near the door.
20s: We can get a housekeeper to clean the common areas.
30s: We will get a housekeeper to clean every nook and cranny—high and low—in this place.
20s: Sure, I’ll live in this windowless basement as long as my rent is cheap.
30s: I simply need a sundrenched space for my perfectly maintained plants.
20s: My first priority is proximity to bars.
30s: My first priority is proximity to grocery stores and a yoga studio.
20s: I can literally sleep through anything, so you don’t care about noise outside.
30s: I need this place to be silent—it is my retreat from the city, after all.
20s: I’ll put up with anything to pay less than $800.
30s: I’ll pay an extra $800 to avoid the many, many housing and roommate mistakes of my past.
20s: Is that mold? Eh, I’ll worry about it later; I like this place.
30s: Is that mold? GRAB THE DOG AND KIDS AND GET THEM OUT OF HERE.
20s: I want to live somewhere surrounded bars and restaurants.
30s: I want to live somewhere where I don’t have to worry about someone puking outside my door.
20s: How many roommates can I fit in the space?
30s: How much furniture can I fit in the space?
20s: I’m praying to find a place with rooftop access.
30s: I’m praying to find a place with a backyard.
20s: My BFF and I are getting a realtor to try to find us the perfect empty remodeled two-bedroom.
30s: I find an open room on Craigslist, I take it.
20s: I rigorously interview potential roommates to find the ideal companion for starting my life in the big city.
30s: The first person who applies (and seems normal-ish) gets it.
20s: I file a complaint with my landlord for every noisy radiator, broken lightbulb and obnoxious neighbor.
30s: I have names for the cockroaches, because lol I know they’re not going anywhere.
20s: I invite my roommates out to happy hour and make snacks every Monday for watching The Bachelor together.
30s: [Door slam]