The apartment is 700 square feet and will house two people, one very loud orange cat and all our
That's right. I have to live with a boy.
Okay, okay, I get to live with a boy.
A boy I love. A boy who loves me.
Okay, cheese-fest over.
We will merge our lives into a one-bedroom apartment in a city he knows more about than I do. We will merge our lives into a one-bedroom apartment, filling it with my too-many boxes and the items in the u-haul his dad keeps threatening to drive out from Oklahoma. In fact, there is a very interesting negotiation currently happening through my facebook page, in which my mom and his dad are trying to negotiate the terms of a fusbal table. I believe that superman underwear, a scuba set and a light sabre might be involved. Oy.
This is my last week living on my own. I'm trying to take advantage of it by doing the silly things I like to do on my own, but I'm also packing up all of my belongings, throwing out the things I never use, debating the meaning of "never use," and ensuring that the cat doesn't take a nose-dive off the ever-growing pile of boxes (yes, he's a cat, but a proper climber, he is not).
After this, the stuff is ours, the house is ours and the life is ours. Although, really, the life has been ours for quite some time, and that makes this all much easier.
So, here's to merging lives. Here's to friends with pick-up trucks who can be paid in beer and chinese food. Here's to parents willing to get up early to lift heavy things and babysit crazy cats. Here's to moving.