Are you a real New Yorker? Here are 12 ways to tell

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You may pride yourself on your Wikipedia-like knowledge of the best/worst rooftop bars and smartest/dumbest places to hail a taxi at rush hour, but you're not really a New Yorker until you pass through the Five Stages of Real Estate Grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance)...and the following NYC real estate truths no longer shock you:

You may be an adult with no curfew, but your doorman will always judge you for coming home late/drunk/both.
The super expects a holiday tip even though you haven't seen him since last Christmas and Task Rabbited your clogged sink last week.
The neighbors you can see walking around naked in their apartment are rarely the ones you want to see naked. Ditto the ones you can hear having sex.
Coming out of the closet means expanding your storage space to the basement of your building, a rented locker, your mother-in-law's house, your car, and/or your desk at work.
The seller accepted your best-and-final bid and sent a contract to you...and to two other buyers whose bids were also accepted. Meanwhile, the seller's lawyer is lying to you all.
Mice. You will have them at least once in your New York lifetime; get over it. Similarly, water bugs (aka massive roaches). Put on your slippers or stilettos, stomp, and move on.
The fact that two or more of your children may very well live in a room that may not be an actual room as you were raised to understand such things, but a dining nook with a temporary wall.
The "one in, one out" rule.
Even though your landlord was going to paint your apartment anyway, it will come out of your security deposit if you leave the walls any other color than hospital white.
A 325-square-foot studio is accurately described as "spacious."
HGTV shows featuring mansions with lazy rivers in the backyard that sell for half of what you paid for your 2-bedroom, 1.5-bath.
Even if it is only half a butt cheek on a window box, you are still smoking your [fill in the blank] "outside" and away from the kids.

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You may be an adult with no curfew, but your doorman will always judge you for coming home late/drunk/both.
The super expects a holiday tip even though you haven't seen him since last Christmas and Task Rabbited your clogged sink last week.
The neighbors you can see walking around naked in their apartment are rarely the ones you want to see naked. Ditto the ones you can hear having sex.
Coming out of the closet means expanding your storage space to the basement of your building, a rented locker, your mother-in-law's house, your car, and/or your desk at work.
The seller accepted your best-and-final bid and sent a contract to you...and to two other buyers whose bids were also accepted. Meanwhile, the seller's lawyer is lying to you all.
Mice. You will have them at least once in your New York lifetime; get over it. Similarly, water bugs (aka massive roaches). Put on your slippers or stilettos, stomp, and move on.
The fact that two or more of your children may very well live in a room that may not be an actual room as you were raised to understand such things, but a dining nook with a temporary wall.
The "one in, one out" rule.
Even though your landlord was going to paint your apartment anyway, it will come out of your security deposit if you leave the walls any other color than hospital white.
A 325-square-foot studio is accurately described as "spacious."
HGTV shows featuring mansions with lazy rivers in the backyard that sell for half of what you paid for your 2-bedroom, 1.5-bath.
Even if it is only half a butt cheek on a window box, you are still smoking your [fill in the blank] "outside" and away from the kids.