If you want to be a homeowner in New York, you have two options, generally speaking: (1) be a banker, or (2) marry a banker. (I suppose you could be born to a banker, but that would predate free will.) This is why every few months or so, after visiting relatives in Connecticut and contracting a severe case of Appliance Envy*, I start looking up real estate listings. And that is how I came upon this 1898 Victorian.

* An affliction that is familiar to all New Yorkers who have considered leaving the city after prolonged contact with a suburban dweller's sparkling new Sub-Zero refrigerator with freezer storage drawers.