New year, new home. Moving in with the boyfriend. Third move within a one-year period (fourth if moving to a new country is included in the count). Cramming in two grown-ups' worth of necessities and junks into a studio apartment. A crazy, seemingly impossible feat that has manifested into a rather weirdly cosy establishment, with the sofa placed diagonally almost in the middle of the room, its right end nearly touching the bed.
This living arrangement means neither of us has our own personal space. Practical implications: I'll have to live with the football game commentaries coming from the TV and he'll have to live with my obsession to keep everything clutter free and crumbs free.
It's Saturday morning, the first of 2009. I'm happily typing away at the dining table and he's happily reading his weekend newspaper on the couch. The TV is off (happily). In its place: incomprehensible old French music, and the quietly humming sounds of my laptop and the refrigerator. It's definitely not what I had imagined a year ago, but I like it and with a little luck, maybe I won't have to move again in six months.
1 comment:
u moved in with the boyfriend already???? Whoaaaaaa congrats!!!!
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