Coming Home

Big weekend for Project Useless Clutter and Disarray: Luke and I cleaned out his apartment in Rensselaer, a major undertaking that included soaking blinds, wiping window sills, and attempting to unclog the kitchen sink. We spent Friday night in a sleeping bag on the floor, as his bed had been disposed of the week before, and when my cell phone's alarm woke me up at 7:00, after fewer than six hours of sleep, I wasn't sure I could make it through the day. I did, though, for Saturday was Homecoming for my alma mater, and it was the first time in four years that I didn't have to snap pictures or take notes for the alumni magazine. Instead, I volunteered in the registration tent and mingled a bit with people who I don't get to see very often. I also found out one of my classmates is a faithful reader of this blog (hi, Mandy!), and she shared some fun living-together anecdotes with me. I have also received e-mail from someone who was a year ahead of me in school, armed with cohabitation stories of her own. This blog is slowly becoming a safe haven for those who are Living in Sin and couldn't be happier about it. Kind of.

Because so much has happened since I left Rensselaer and Saint Joe in May, I wasn't sure what the weekend would hold. The work relationships I had once enjoyed on a daily basis have now evolved into more casual ties, and I felt a little sad thinking about all the inside jokes and gossip I could no longer be privy to. But it was so great to tell the little $%#@ who approached me in the Beer and Brat Tent to say, "So, you're still here, huh?" and fire back, "Actually, I have a great job in Indianapolis and I'm here on my own terms now, you obnoxious tool."

It's amazing how different I feel, for I truly have reached a point in my life where I am on my own terms, without wanting to apologize to anybody for how I got here. I'm proud of how I got here, because dammit, I have put in my time. The niches in my belt are filled with squeezing in a term paper on my lunch hour, spending weeekends at the office, crying at my desk after meetings (and unfortunately, sometimes in the meeting), and doing my best to follow a work ethic I couldn't fully support. After four years of breaking my back, I was ready for something new.

Right now, Project Cohabitation is still plenty new. After one week, I'm still kind of floating on air, similar to the way you react in the first weeks of romance, where you see everything through rose-colored glasses. It's been hard going to work every day, knowing that when I'm eating lunch in my cubicle, MY BOYFRIEND IS IN MY APARTMENT RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE. With no fear of being grounded for it! My boyfriend, all access, all the time. Monday was wonderful. He woke up with me, we had breakfast, and he sent me out the door with a packed lunch and kiss good-bye. When I came home, dinner was ready and waiting. Was seriously thinking that maybe this whole double income thing was not so necessary after all. Then Tuesday started with me breaking the floater attachment on the toilet and waking up Luke to say, "I think I did something wrong." He wasn't so eager to kiss me then.

We are still learning the ropes in this new life of ours, doing our best to distinguish what can remain "yours" and "mine" while still nuturing the "our." (He refuses to accept joint ownership of my Murder, She Wrote season one box set, while I happily relinquish all rights to his coffeemaker. But with two computers in the house, we both stake claim to the wireless adapter that makes all of our Internet dreams come true.) Still learning to carefully ignore the way the quilt on the mattress scandulously brushes the carpet every morning and instead just be thankful to be in love with a man willing to make the bed. Maybe just one of us is learning that one.

I suppose for every rose-colored moment, a little toilet water must fall.

Comments

[Crystal]

Oh gosh do I feel ya! I have so much clutter of my own and it's gonna take a Herculean effort for me to get truly organized.

[Will Shannon]

I still feel that, in my place, my parents are waiting somewhere to yell at me. I guess I am an interesting person to live with.

I am still getting used to the fact that I can (if I want):

-Drink a beer in the bathroom.

-Not close the bathroom door or put the seat down (until I need it, naturally).

-Provided the blinds are drawn, never wear clothes.

-Cook whatever I want whenever I want it (fried bologna and onions at four in the morning? No problem).

-Listen to all of the wierdo music I want.


Ahh, the life of a single guy...it's the little things that make me happy.

[Liz]

I loved the feeling when my husband and I finally lived together. Isn't it great?

[Mandy]

Thanks for the shout out! I love knowing that there's someone to come home to (and I'm not talking about my dog). Living with the love of your life, will test your patience (at least it does for me). I ask myself how many times, must I ask him to take out the garbage? I now have to learn which battles are worth fighting. But overall I wouldn't have it any other way. :)

[Matthew McConaughey]

Well put, Will. Well put. Prior to two years ago, the happiest moments of my life were spent with my ex-girlfriend. Not one of those happened while we were living together. In the last two years, I've lived by myself for the most part, and was single (for the most part). I wouldn't trade it for anything! If I want to get drunk, take off my clothes and play the congas at 3 am, I can absolutely do it (so long as I lock the door).