This Old Apartment

"Can I stay over?" It felt like a silly question for SCL to ask me, seeing as how this is still technically his apartment. 

 

We had both had full days--he'd been with his family in Maryland, and I'd been painting and prepping for my own big move in about two weeks. We'd only seen each other a few hours here and there over the weekend, something that we're still trying to get used to. A few months ago the weekend was definitely time that we shared together, usually in our apartment playing Mario Kart and drinking wine. 

I didn't sleep well next to SCL. Part of me was kind of excited that he was there (we haven't slept in the same bed for months now), and part of me just wasn't used to him anymore. Isn't that crazy? For nearly two years we've shared the same bed practically every night, and after less than two months of separation, nearly all of that familiarity was gone. 

I admitted to him that at first I'd enjoyed having the bed to myself. I tend to be a semi-violent sleeper, tossing and turning and talking in my sleep and (accidentally) hitting SCL in the face. But just last week as I was drifting off, I realized how lonely it felt to fall asleep alone. I missed falling asleep next to SCL's warmth and his occasional soft snoring. 

SCL's been so big about having his space, demarcated particularly by his sleeping in his own bed, that I was pretty surprised he wanted to stay with me in our old apartment. I think it was partly that he didn't feel like walking home, but there was a part of him that was reminiscing about the time we'd had together in this space. For both of us, despite the ups and downs, we have fond memories of this place. It's going to be bittersweet giving it up. 

I wonder if we'll ever share a space together again. 

First Night Alone

SCL spent the night at his new place. Technically this wasn't my first night alone in our apartment--I spent plenty of those while we were broken up. The difference is this time he's staying in his own place, not at a friend's or at his parents'. This is a permanent move, and I've still got another month before I can begin moving into my house. So in the meantime I've got to learn to deal with living here alone. 

It's not like he's moved all of his stuff out, but he's got one foot out the door for sure. He sold the extra bed and dresser. Most of his books are gone, and a lot of his clothes, too. He's even down to a single monitor on his desk (there were three. Yes, he is a total computer nerd if you didn't know.) And to make it worse, his moving things out has only seemed to make my things explode everywhere. Now I'm living in chaos of my own creation. 

Instead of dealing with the present situation, I prefer thinking about my new place, occupying myself with decoration ideas and picturing how serene and beautiful it will be. I have what I'd like my bed to look like in my head. It looks something like this:

But I've still got time to spend here, and I don't want to waste it wishing it away. 

It's hard to have SCL already literally moving on and for me be stuck in the same place. That's how I've felt in the past about the relationship in general--him moving to a new place and I'm trying to catch up. I'm still struggling with all of the transitions we're going through, wondering if it's really going to work and if I'm going to be able to adjust. The tendency to cling right now is strong and difficult to resist, and yet I know that is one of the biggest issues I have to overcome. 

I'm struggling to be strong when all I really want is to have him hold me. 

When Reality Sets Back In

Despite this particular Monday being a holiday, I have not been spared the customary Monday kick-in-the-ass reality check. This time it's not about the reality of work. It's the reality of SCL moving out.

We had a truly lovely weekend of lounging around, making our fabulous homemade pizzas, watching The Office, drinking lots of wine, and getting sun by the pool. It was awesome to do nothing for a change. With all of the travel weekends have been so hectic for me over the last few months that it was a nice change of pace for both of us. It's also the most time SCL and I have spent together since the break-up. I think we both really enjoyed each other's company and can appreciate one another in a different way than we did before.

SCL's lease officially starts tomorrow, and while he's planning on moving his things gradually, it's still quite a shock to my system to watch him move things out. Today he bought new sheets and is taking them over to his new place. Does that mean he'll be sleeping there soon? Probably, at least some of the time. He also put up his dresser, which I'd been using, and our extra bed up on Craigslist, and within an hour someone wanted to buy the dresser. Tonight. That means I had to dump all of my stuff out of it, and of course, I don't have any place really convenient to put it all.

As I was pulling out my sweaters and socks and shoving them into storage bins, that's when it hit me. He's moving out. I'm moving out. We're not going to live together anymore. We won't have the luxury of an entire space together--no private kitchen to make pizza in, no living room to hang out in, no space that just belongs to us. Pretty soon we'll be back in the "yours and mine" stage, not the "ours." It's going to be fucking weird. As excited as I am to have my own space to make my own and call it home, I'm not sure if that outweighs the sense of loss I feel. It's only more difficult to consider this shift after spending a truly wonderful weekend together, remembering what it used to be like when things were good and wanting to truly believe that this time around, it would be different if we lived together. I'd try harder. We'd figure it out.

We've made this choice to live apart. I'm scared about that change for sure. But there's part of me that truly hopes that the (short) distance from one another will actually work to make the time we spend together better--that perhaps we'll appreciate the time we have and one another more, and that in fact we may want to spend more time together than before. And it'll be intentional rather than by default. I hope that's the case. I have to believe that it will be.

SCL's Disappearing Act

Before I got into this, go check out my first ever guest post at Cee's blog Curiosity! I guess this makes me a "real" blogger now. Probably no new information for my readers, but I'm so pumped to be making a name for myself in the blogosphere.

So, here we go. Yesterday SCL came back after three nights at his parents. After being home for about an hour, he started packing things into my car to take to his new place. Although his lease doesn't start until June 1st, the landlord/SCL's new roommate had said he could start moving things in this week. I don't blame SCL for wanting to move stuff in gradually, but it was kind of tough to see him for a few minutes and then the next moment he's packing up his shit. Well, I'm going to have to face it sooner or later. He's moving out.

But this is not the disappearing act I'm talking about. Ironically last night I wrote something in my journal like, "I really want to know that SCL isn't going anywhere, but right now I don't even trust him to come home at night." And that is true. The nights when he's out later than I am, I usually keep my bedroom door open to hear him come in. My mom did this when we were teenagers because she said she couldn't sleep until she knew we were home safe. Most of the time I don't hear him but when I wake up, he's there sound asleep.

Until last night. After moving some of his stuff over, he took a shower and went over to a party around 5:30. I didn't ask when he'd be home, and I didn't even leave my door open. But I did assume he would come home. Apparently that isn't a safe assumption to make because when I woke up this morning, I looked out in the living room and he wasn't there. I was worried and pretty pissed. I went to check my phone and email; no word from him. I figured he'd just gotten drunk or had missed the last train, but neither of these options sounded much like him. He's always managed to get home before.

I sent him a text, "R u ok?" and he texted back yes, that he had stayed over where the party was and would be home later. Well, at least he's ok. I'm not so much upset over him not coming home, but that he didn't let me know that he might stay over. The bigger issue to me is wondering if this is how it's going to be with us. Is staying out all night and not calling now something I'm expected to just accept as ok? I guess when he moves into his own place, it will be different, but while we're still living in the same apartment, it would just be nice to know where he is. But it's like he's already gone.

I Have a Place to Live!

Despite being creeped out by craigslist, I decided to give it another go, this time looking for more of a house or townhouse situation. My parameters were:

• Must have private bath
• Must be under $1000 a month
• Must be walkable (less than a mile) to Metro

I found a listing for a room in a house just a few blocks from where I am now and decided to give it a try. SCL and I have been in a high-rise this year, so it was crazy to walk just a few blocks away and be surrounded by single family homes. So residential--and not on the fire house route like we are now. The outside looked really nice and well-kept; flowers everywhere. (Second clue that the guys living there are gay; first clue was a detail they included in the ad about a chihuahua.)

The inside was beautifully decorated, and the house has a huge deck with a perfectly manicured backyard. One of the best features of the house is a guest room where people could stay for a night or two if they're visiting. I was already in love. Then I went up to the empty room--HUGE with plenty of light and a HUGE ass closet with full length mirrors in the sliding doors. Beautiful wooden floors and a private, albeit small bathroom. But I love that the room is big enough to accommodate Rosie.

So, I'm going tomorrow to sign the lease! To tell you the truth, I'm kind of excited about having my own space again, too. I've already got decorating plans in mind, and I don't have to worry about it being too girlie. And, although I wasn't looking specifically for it, SCL's new place is also pretty close by, which means we won't have to spend an hour taking the Metro to see each other. Another plus.

But the biggest plus? The chihuahua named Heidi. Seriously.

On the Hunt for a New Apartment

Being the control freak that I am, the fact that I still have two months on my current lease is of no comfort to me when I have yet to find the perfect situation in the first 48 hours of my searching. As I write this, I realize how truly ridiculous it is. But SCL started looking yesterday, so damn it, I did, too. Can't let him beat me to it!

Just as there is no perfect man, there is no such thing as a perfect apartment. Well, there probably is but not at the price I'd like to pay, thereby making it imperfect. I've thought about all kinds of possibilities.

A. Finding a studio in the area I'm currently in, which I love because it's convenient.

B. Finding a one-bedroom slightly farther out but still pretty convenient.

C. Finding a 2BR/2BA in a high rise or a townhouse in

D. Leaving DC altogether because the rent here is fucking ridiculous.

Ok, so D isn't really an option. At least not for now.

Yesterday I went on my first search for a new place. Answered a listing on craigslist for a C-type apartment. The woman living there seemed normal (not exactly easy to find in craigslist) and the place was practically across the street from where I live now. I had somewhat high hopes for the place, but as soon as I got there, I knew it wouldn't work.

The problem is that I work from home and I need some SPACE. I'm not comfortable spending a lot of time in an apartment with a person I don't even know. She was nice enough, but the place was really messy and I just didn't get the best vibe. I could see it being at least a semi-awkward situation, and I really want to avoid that.

Granted it was just one visit, but I'm kind of thinking that sharing an apartment in a high rise with someone I don't know just ain't gonna work. It's too small of a space to live with a practical stranger. I'm ready to have a bit more grown-up of a life, so I guess I'll have to suck it up and pay more for that. Also have a friend who is looking for a fourth roommate, and she's pretty fantastic. I think they're in a house or a townhouse, so at least there'd be more space.

I'm still kinda pissed I have to do this when work is busy as hell (I'm writing from the airport AGAIN!!!!) and I really like my current apartment. And I'm kind of disappointed by the potential of not being very close to SCL, though hopefully we can find places somewhat convenient to the Metro. I guess considering him in the situation shouldn't be priority one, but it's been my default way of looking at things for so long that it's hard to resist that initial gut instinct to think how my decision will affect him and us. If there even is an "us" anymore.

Gotta Get Through This Lease

Two words: fuck it.

It's partly an acceptance of the ambiguity of the situation, and it's partly my own exhaustion with the situation.

I've started emailing folks on craigslist about housing, not that I'm seriously looking yet but to get my mind in the framework of finding my own place to live, something I thought I'd be doing anyway a few weeks ago. It's kind of liberating not to be restricted by SCL's meager student finances in terms of where I can find a place. It'll be more expensive than sharing our 1BR, but not too much.

I have to say, I don't mind being in our apartment by myself, but when we're together here, it feels totally weird. SCL named it tonight--in the apartment our interactions feel "normal," but it's not like it was four months ago or so. It's confusing to be kind of back at the beginning of our relationship, trying to rebuild it, but occupying a space we shared when we were "serious" or "committed" or whatever it was we were. Now I don't know what we are.

What I do know is that he's the one shifting and varying and wavering, not me. He even admitted this today. Frankly, it's exhausting to be around, and there's part of me that wishes we both could pack up and move tomorrow, get out of this place and the baggage it holds, get a fresh start. If the separation helps us, fine. If it doesn't, at least it'll put me out of the misery of being around his moody ass.

I'm not sure what to do in the meantime before our lease is up in July. If we are going to try to give it another go together, I think we should make time to be together now (i.e. have some actual fun) and not wait until we've moved. Maybe that needs to be done exclusively outside our living space since it seems to wreak havoc on our time together.

Oh, just fuck it.

An Apartment Predicament

SCL and I found out while we were broken up that our rent was going up by $200 next year. Hell to the no was I going to pay for that by myself. I figured that'd be the case anyway and had no intention of staying here. Plus, why would I want to live in the apartment that we'd shared? I was all prepared to do some serious craigslist hunting in the coming months.

But last week SCL told me how he really didn't want to live with anyone else--he wanted to live with me. But he also wanted to find a new apartment. I was fine with this. I think a fresh start would be a good thing for us.

It hadn't occurred to me to say, "What a sec, you want to live with me again?" Here's the thing, blog friends. As soon as he told me he wanted back into my life, I couldn't help myself. I was already planning the wedding, the kids, the whole shebang. From the third week of our relationship, I knew that SCL and I would end up together, and the fact that we broke up and got back together less than two weeks ago doesn't seem to have changed that feeling I have. But it does mean that I want a solid commitment from him.

Now that we're discussing it more, I can tell he's unsure about this move. And deep down maybe I am, too. Would moving in together be a good idea, given the last few months? Should we jumping into another big re-commitment just a few months after a break-up? I don't know.

The flip side is what would living apart do to our relationship when we've been living together for a year? To me I would see that as a moving apart and part of me wouldn't believe SCL and I would ever live together again. So, in my mind at least, it's challenging because the options are so cut and dry. We either live together and make plans to have a life together. Or, we separate and drift apart.

Where's my therapist when I need her?

Little Acts of Destruction

The day after SCL (from this point forward now standing for “Sorry-Ass Communicationally-Stunted Loser” ) broke things off, I had this singular moment of rage in which I couldn’t control my tongue and out of this dark, incredibly hurt place inside came this “FUCK YOU!”

Immediately I felt like an idiot for saying something so infantile and not particularly creative, and even though I was really feeling like shit because SCL had been an asshole to me, I called him later to say “Sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Well, I’m here to tell you that today I’m taking back that taking back of the F-U because, damn it, I really mean it now! I wish I could yell it a million times to his face, post it on his facebook page (I actually did type the words and got dangerously close to hitting post, but luckily was able to reign it in), take a Sharpie and write it all over his fucking designer t-shirts that I bought him for Christmas.

FUCK YOU, SCL! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKER!

Why should I feel bad for feeling angry? He has done the absolute cruelest thing to me, broke his promise to never leave me, to work things out together, and damn it, I have every reason to be fired up and pissed off about it when I need to be. Before today I don’t think I’d ever screamed into a pillow before, but now I get why people do it. I spent an hour this morning screaming into one of my throw pillows, these shtrill sounds coming from the pit of my stomach that I didn’t even recognize as my own voice. I didn’t even know I could make those kinds of noises.

I thought I’d been angry before, really felt it deep down, but I think I was mistaken. Before I’d been able to contain it, soothe it, cool down, but today I couldn't hold back. I yelled and sobbed and screamed until I thought I was going to pass out because I was hyperventilating so much. Frankly, I was sort of scared shitless. How was I going to calm down from this? Fortunately the body can only take so much before there’s a natural stillness that gradually takes over. More like a paralysis actually.

After a few minutes the paralysis lifted gradually and suddenly I began plotting what I would call little acts of destruction and this time actually carrying them out. I am so fed up with being in the apartment that we shared together with his damn shit everywhere. I had to do something to get some power back, some ownership of the space back. So, I went in search of things I’d given him—starting with little things: a Lego pen, a stack of Post-its, a mug with his initial on it. I figured I paid for them, so I should be able to destroy them, right? And then I went to town. I broke the lego pen into itty bitty pieces, taking pleasure as they snapped. I tore up the first few post-its and then the whole stack. Each little tear, little snap, little break, I felt relieved and empowered. This was fun.

And then I moved on to other parts of the apartment. I went into the bathroom, found the expensive body spray I’d bought him and dumped the entire contents down the sink. Mmmhmmm…loving that…so why not his beloved cognac? I only poured a little (I’m not that mean), but it was a great feeling watching it go down the sink. This was getting fun. What next?

Then psycho reared her ugly head. I knew what I had to find and destroy next--pictures of his obsession. I needed to take a torch to at least one. So, get this, isn’t it sick that he has DOZENS of pictures of her in his photo albums but not a SINGLE ONE OF ME?? What does that say about how he felt about me, huh? I found two just of her and went to town with a lighter, some sharpies, and scissors. Destroyed, done, finito. And at that point, it was enough. I knew I needed to stop before I got carried away. Time to release, relax, breathe.

Now that time has passed, I’m trying hard not to judge myself for committing these little acts of destruction. First, I was reasonable. I didn’t destroy anything valuable—computers, expensive clothes (that I bought him)—or truly sentimental things that are important to him—his grad school tassel, his diploma, his family photos, etc. Believe me, though, I thought about all of it. I'm proud to say that I think I found a good balance of getting out the rage and maintaining my dignity.

The thing is, no matter what I destroy, no matter how much I try to rip up his shit, it’s never going to compare to the amount of hurt and pain he’s caused me. That's the reality. And that fucking sucks.

Confessions of a (Not So) Clean Freak

For the first few weeks of living together, SCL and I were naturally on our best behavior--putting our stuff away, cleaning up the hair in the shower (mostly me; I shed like you wouldn't believe), and generally trying to avoid our bad behaviors when it came to keeping a clean place. Of course that didn't last too terribly long. We are human after all and no amount of willing would keep our bad habits at bay forever. Hence, exhibit A-->

This is a pile o' stuff next to my side of the bed that no matter how I try to keep under control always seems to recreate itself anew each day. I took this pic a few days ago. Looks like that days pile was made up of a t-shirt, pajama pants, umbrella, tote bag, open ELLE magazine, iPod, hair clip, sunglasses, and of course, Rosemary Ruether's classic Sexism and God-Talk. When I sheepishly admitted to my ever-growing pile o' stuff, SCL said, "Yeah, I'm always afraid I'm going to step on your phone in the morning." As it were my phone was in another spot on the floor, which I blame on me not shoving it off the bed along with all the other crap before getting under the covers. It probably went flying the first time one of us tossed or turned.

This pile is pretty much the only chaos I allow in my home life. I am generally clean (not an innate quality but one I have developed over time, which I think makes me even more controlling about it.) But this pile I just can't seem to rid myself of. Doesn't help that I'm getting home later and later most evenings and just don't give a damn about putting my stuff away. I guess letting my hair down is a good thing, but it's hard to let another person see all your crap, literally or figuratively speaking.

But mess or no mess, I have a partner who loves me just the same--and who will try his best not to step on it.

Real Furniture: One of the (few) Pleasures of Growing Up and Having a Job

This is the day I've been waiting for since July 11th. Our couch I ordered from Macy's has finally arrived! Look at how cute she is! I think I'm going to name her Rosie 1) because of her beautiful red color and I'm sure you've all noticed how white the rest of the place is and 2) to honor my very first doll, a Cabbage Patch preemie whom I, just under two years old, called affectionately "Wozee." You might say it's silly to name a couch, but I've been waiting for this for what feels like forever and we haven't had a place for us both to sit since we moved in. See that twin bed off behind Rosie? That has been our makeshift couch, which made me feel like we were living in a dorm. It was comfortable for one, but not so much for two, and most nights I didn't really feel like moving from the little bed to the big bed.

Rosie is the first real furniture I've ever bought that wasn't secondhand. Don't get me wrong, I love secondhand furniture. In fact, everything in our apartment, save a few small Ikea pieces, are all from friends, loved ones, and random Craigslisters. We tried to find a used couch, but they were all smelly, stained, or (ew!) bug-infested. I decided that for this, I could be a grown up and buy myself a real piece of furniture, damn it!

Let me tell you something: finding Rosie was not easy. The day before move-in day my lovely aunt and I went out on an adventure, GPS in hand, to find me a couch. I figured hey, people are desperate to sell things like furniture, so this should be a snap. WRONG.

First stop: Jennifer Convertibles. Saw a couch I liked. Salesman belittled/patronized me after ignoring me for 20 minutes. Said "bye bye, asshole" and walked out.

Second stop: Jennifer Convertibles #2. Saw couch I liked. Idiot salesman knows nothing about delivering to my area, calling other stores closer to my area, or how to tie his own shoes.

Third stop: Foolishly relying on GPS, we drove out of our way to an independent store, figuring the chain stores were a racket. Pulled up to a store with neon signs flashing "Mattresses!," light up Mary figurines, and bars on the window. Despite feeling desperate, I decided it was just too sketchy.

Fourth stop: Bassett furniture. Beautiful pieces, stick in the mud salespeople. Refuse to make me a deal. Piss me off. Bye bye.

Fifth stop: JC Penny. Pleather pull out sofas. Enough said.

Sixth stop: Pottery Barn. All I could afford was a throw pillow.

Seventh stop: Macy's. Aunt says, "If you can afford anything in this store, I will eat a hat." And there stood my Rosie, a beautiful red (what I wanted) at a reasonable price, which I negotiated down another hundred bucks. Life is perfect until I am informed that it is on back order until late August. Call SCL who is understandably not thrilled about the wait. But I'm in love. I can wait, and SCL agrees. I say, "I'll take her."And now my aunt must eat a hat.

And now she's here. Tonight after work and meetings I hope to have a mini-couch party, complete with a glass of wine, TV watching, and lots o' snuggling to celebrate our first night together. Welcome home, Rosie!

Bonding with Your Partner, Homemade Pizza Style

Over the last year, SCL and I have become what you might call pizza purists. It's not that we don't enjoy on the occasion a slice of Domino's, Pap John's, or other commercially-prepared pies. It's just that we think we do it a LOT better, healthier, cheaper, and delicious-er. You should try it, too!

The elements of the perfect pizza

1) The crust. This took a lot of hard work, attempting many different recipes, until we discovered the right one for our tastes. The recipe is from allrecipes.com and is called Jay's Signature Pizza Crust. Seriously, trust me on this; it is the perfect balance of crispy and chewy. Each recipes makes two thin or one ridiculously thick crust. We usually double the recipe, split up the dough, and freeze each ball separately. One tip: the pizza dough will be a bit sticky if you follow the recipe exactly, so feel free to add up more flour until you get the right consistency.

2) The sauce. (I'll stick to tomato sauce for now.) I do not purchase jarred pizza sauce because it is so easy and cheaper to make your own at home. We buy a big can of tomato puree and I mix in garlic powder, oregano, basil, and black pepper. You could add a bit of tomato paste if you want it thicker. Also, I do not recommend using canned tomato sauce as its too watery. Trust me, tomato puree is the way to go.

3) The cheese. Do not buy shredded cheese! This is a big no-no. Shredded cheese has some kind of added preservative that makes it rubbery and gross when it melts. Buy some low-moisture mozzarella and grate it yourself. We buy ours at Costco because we can get a 5 lb. block for what it would cost for 1-2 lbs at the grocery store. It freezes just fine if you are careful to wrap it in plastic wrap, and some even suggest shredding the cheese when it's a little frozen because it's easier to grate. Tip: use the smaller grate as you'll need less cheese if it's more finely grated.

4) The toppings. This is the time to play! Some of our favorites are:
Mashed Potato and Bacon (Use the potato as a sauce. Believe me, it's delicious)
Sausage, Pepper, and Onion
BBQ Chicken and Red Onion
Pepperoni, Feta, and Sundried Tomato (If the tomatoes aren't in a jar, add them towards the end of cooking or they'll get charred!)

5) The baking. We figured out that it's best to cook the crust for a few minutes before adding the sauce, cheese, and other toppings. If you put it all in together, the crust might be underdone. Underdone crust = yuck. Ours cook at around 425, but you may need to adjust for your oven. If you like your cheese a bit browner, you can broil it for a few minutes (but be careful or your toppings might burn.)

6) The eating. Self-explanatory. We usually can polish off a whole one in one meal because the crust is so thin. It's perfect for two people with healthy appetites.

Happy Pizza Making!

TV Will Bring Us Together

One of the great things of having a computer genius/nerd as a boyfriend is that I benefit from all of the crazy computer skills (Napoleon Dynamite was right about that one), my favorite being the DVR-like computer he built for recording TV shows. The program is called MythTV, and to me it is a god.

This comes in handy for many reasons, but in particular for me because I'm lame and like to go to sleep around 10:00 (I get up at 6:30 to go to the gym and need all the sleep I can get), I don't get to watch some of my favorite shows while they air, such as Chelsea Lately and Mad Men. So, our little MythTV is my friend and stays up to record my shows. It's so smart--it can even search for later showings of the show if there's a scheduling conflict, so that I don't have to choose between Project Runway and The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Whew!

Now, you might be wondering, why is this better than my DVR/TiVo/etc.? I'll tell you why. First, the program is free to use (right, SCL?). Second, the subscription to get TV listings is $20--for a whole year. Third, and best of all, it flags commercials. You read that right; it automatically detects commericals and skips them for you as you watch. Brilliant! This means no having to skip forward manually and risk losing a few riveting seconds of More to Love.

Strangely enough, I have found recording TV actually results in less overall TV viewing for me, mostly because I know it's there waiting for me whenever I want. There's no more urgency. Sometimes I'll binge on a whole week's worth of Bravo reality TV on Saturday, but seriously, there are worse things I could be doing with my time.

Big props to SCL for being such a good cable provider.

Things I've Learned from Cohabitating (Week 1)

1) Two people make a lot more laundry than one.

2) Two people make a lot more dishes than one.

3) The dishwasher in our apartment has made #2 hardly noticeable.

4) There is nothing better than drinking coffee together in the morning.

5) Living together is nothing like having your partner stay at your house overnight and share your toothpaste, even if you did that all the time before you moved in together.

6) Living together is way better and way more challenging than #5.

Mini Freak-Out

Yesterday I had a moment of feeling really afraid that I wasn't going to be able to do this shared living. I feared that I was too selfish and too unwilling to share to make it work--and that I was going to be unhappy.

These last three weeks have been exhausting for both of us in different ways. SCL dealt with all of the logistical aspects of the move (and his own emotional piece as well). I dealt with the time crunch and starting a new job. The newness is what got to me yesterday. Nothing feels familiar. That isn't to say that I dislike my new job, my new apartment, my new city, my new life. I am very happy here, but nothing quite feels like home yet. I haven't had time to put things away or just relax with my man.

I decided last night that I needed time in the morning to be on my own to work out and that I needed one of the big walk-in closets to have only my stuff. So far that's helped. I also put away some remaining clothes, bags, etc. last night, so I feel like the space is coming together better. It's a process.

Thank goodness for good communication and a patient partner.

Is this toothpaste mine--or ours?

SCL and I moved into our new apartment on Sunday. I'm in love! We're still in the unpacking process, especially because I'm at work and can't do much, but SCL has done a lot of the organizing and setting up. God bless him.

I honestly didn't think that living together would feel like much of a shift, but it is, especially in the little ways. It's hard to switch from saying "mine" to "ours," not because I'm a possessive two-year-old but because I'm just not used to saying it or having things that belong to us both. And, I'm living with another person, in the same room. Weird!

This morning I got up early, thinking I'd let SCL sleep in while I primped and got ready. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see him standing right outside. I thought to myslef, "What is he doing here?" and then I remembered that he lives there and maybe that means my routine will change, even my sacred getting ready ritual which involves a lot of time in front of the bathroom mirror.

But, in other ways it's so easy. I love getting up in the mornings and having breakfast at our table together. I love not having SCL scurry home to his own place to get ready for the day. I love living with my partner and friend and knowing that he'll be there when I come home from work.

All in all, a wonderful decision for us.

Changing Zip Codes

I got word that our application was accepted, and our official move in date is this Sunday. At this moment I am just thrilled and not thinking about the pain of moving into a new apartment. Of course the building has an elevator, but this is a new thing for those of us moving from apartments in old houses with staircases too narrow to carry much of anything up them. As I've said, SCL has done/is doing most of the work: renting truck, packing it, driving it. I'm still dealing with the self-imposed guilt.

Life is overwhelming at the moment, but mostly in a good way. I had fun during my lunch break updating my address on magazine subscriptions, credit cards, etc. It's so nice to have an address; I cannot overemphasize this. And, my friend from ATL called to say that she could come visit next weekend because flights are super cheap. I told her I couldn't promise that our apartment would be put together, but she's more than welcome!

Countdown to move in: 5 days

Keeping my Anxiety in Check

If you have just signed a lease, here's a little advice. Please do not go to apartmentratings.com and read the reviews of your building. It will only make you anxious.

First of all, the people writing reviews are big whiny babies. I figure most of the people who go to a website like that are going there to complain. (Honestly, I cannot think of a time I've written a serious review to talk about how great something was. C'mon, people love to bitch.)

Second of all, our respective apartments in CT were complete messes. Complaints about management? Ha! Talk about not having any management at all in CT. For the last year only half of the electrical outlets in our kitchen worked. We couldn't have the toaster and the microwave going at the same time because it would blow a fuse. My landlord couldn't even be bothered to show people around our apartment, so he'd ask me to do it. Or, he'd show up unannounced, stating that he thought we usually weren't home at ____ time on ____ day. SCL's landlord did not list his own number but SCL's as the contact for people to call to look at the place. The nerve!

Third of all, we loved the apartment, and it's a great deal for the space and location.That's all that matters. And, we're just happy to be here in DC. We're not expecting paradise in our first apartment (hello, we're in our 20s). And if we don't like it, we can move after a year. Wouldn't be the first time.

Bye bye, apartment reviews!

New Apartment. Check!

As I said in my last post, SCL has been an angel throughout the whole apartment search. Unlike our previous city, renting in DC seems to have a slightly longer process for getting an apartment, mostly because everything here is a high rise with a managment company (not some nonchalant middle-aged bachelor buying up property to rent to grad students, so he can sit on his ass all day and still make money.) Applying for a new apartment several months in advance isn't unheard of. When I visited a friend on Friday, I went to his leasing office to ask about any openings, figuring it couldn't hurt to see a few apartments and believing that in this economy, people are desperate to rent. Ha! Not true for this building. The woman in the leasing office practically laughed in my face when I said we were hoping to move in by mid-July. And she said the same was true of the surrounding properties, which I never thought to question because it sent me into a panic.

Suddenly, I was in a tizzy, asking myself "Shit, where are we going to live? What if all the places we look at are shitholes? What if they're tiny and there's no room for our stuff and they cost $5,000 a month?" Not rational, hence my calling it a panic. I panic occasionally, in little 5 to 10 minute spurts usually. SCL is usually silent during them, which at the time I find infuriating but then afterward I realize was the best thing he could have done for himself and for me. Usually they end with me in tears, him comforting me, and me asking him for the millionth time, "Are you sure you love me even though I freak out?" And he always says yes, and that while I do freak out, that is not the bulk of who I am or how I act. Thank God for that.

Last night when we were planning our apartment hunt, my aunt handed us a huge book of property listings. I immediately began flipping through it and wanted to add new areas to our search. This was a little overwhelming to SCL, who had carefully chosen four properties all within our pricerange and within walking distance (more or less...) to the Metro. I decided at that point to calm down and only add one other area--Crystal City. I just had a good feeling about it, and those feelings are usually dead on. (I had one about my current job before my initial interview.)

The first apartment we saw was in another part of NoVa (Northern Virginia for all of you non-DCers), and it was fine. But the guy who showed us around was a tool and we found that the Metro was quite a distance from where we'd be. Not ideal, but it was definitely a possibility. But then---we found our match. Perfection. New kitchen, new bathroom, two walk-in closets. Did you get that? TWO WALK IN CLOSETS! A pantry, another closet, a huge living room, two entrances, a beautiful fitness center--the list goes on and on. We knew we didn't need to look any further. The gut was right once again.

And now we have an apartment. I am so happy.