Cute here. I’d love to tell you about something fun that we’ve done recently, but that is not happening this week. February has become our come-to-Jesus month as it is the first month we’ve spent in the new condo, living together. Yikes!!!
Combining two distinct households is not easy. When you are in your 20s and you have very little, except your parents' hand-me-downs, which no longer happens I’m told, it is easier to combine than when both of you have a lifetime of items, some cherished, some part of your heritage, and some you just really really like.
We knew we had different tastes in art although we have managed to buy a couple of things that we both enjoy. However two problems immediately emerged: our art tastes were satisfied in separate condos but now we have one together. It’s a bit of dissonance in our otherwise placid existence. Second, what fits in one place doesn’t necessarily fit in the next, just in terms of sheer spacing and number of walls, even if there’s more square footage.
We’ve learned a great deal in this move and not just about each other. For instance, labeling a moving box “Kitchen” or even “Kitchen Fragile” really doesn’t help. More remarkably, labeling something like “Cutest’s Bathroom Right-Hand Bottom Drawer” does help somewhat. Unfortunately, we and our excellent movers, O’Connor’s Moving, didn’t do that often enough.
We’ve learned that moving requires an inordinate amount of paper. Many trees died for the paper to be made used to protect our items for only a one-mile journey. We’ve torn up nearly a million, give or take, boxes and recycled them, but then we realized that we also need boxes to put things in to try to hide them.
We’ve learned something new about Habitat for Humanity, an excellent organization. But it was a surprise discovering how much they charge to pick up your donation. But getting the old range, wine cooler, and microwave, which was quite large for something called micro, out-of-the-way, was a huge relief.
We’ve learned about the magical disappearance of the item that you’re looking for that you just saw. You can only find the lid to the salad spinner. You know you have a corkscrew somewhere. (That’s a really important one.} Your Christmas dishes are in 12 different boxes, none labeled Christmas. All the celebratory paper napkins you brought over, you realize you may never use. Surely someone you know will turn 60 and you will have a party for them.
Moving made me consolidate similar items and in doing so, it became very clear to me that I have some fetishes. For instance, I probably don’t need 193 ink pens, most still working. I knew I liked pens, especially fast writers, but I didn’t know I’d managed to accumulate so many. I think out of the grand total I have only bought or been given six. I have a full bin of moisturizer. Clearly, I have been very concerned about my growing number of wrinkles. I don’t think I will ever have to buy another moisturizer for the rest of my life. And BTW, I'm not sure ANY of them really work.
We've learned that moving can bring a couple closer together. Moving in together definitely brings you closer together. Sometimes a bit too close? :) But the merging of different tastes can be difficult and each party needs to give a little. Cute will laugh when he reads this as he feels that he has given up everything and my stuff has replaced it. That’s really not true, but I don’t wanna put this to the test and do an item by an item research project.
We’ve learned that while we admire Walt Disney, his faucets in the guest bathroom are too Mickey Mouse for us.
We’ve learned that a person can live without a kitchen for a few weeks, but a refrigerator is probably the most needed. A countertop is next. Originally we were just going to put new faces on the old cabinetry but ended up having the entire kitchen torn out. Fortunately we were gone for part of this project and it’s almost completed. Unsolicited, unpaid shout out to Kitchen Tune-up – and this was much more than a tune up!
We’ve learned that moving is about internal real estate and logistics. For instance, a different kitchen means different spaces. Some things are just too big for their new environment. Good bye bundt and bar pans. Farewell too-large containers. Adios Costco. I'm sobbing here.
I now recognize that making a million small and seemingly simple decisions: keep/toss/give away/place/replace is exhausting, even for the dog. Truly exhausting. Especially when you know you’ll have to move it again, later, when the true utility of your choices is called into question.
I’ve learned that a mantra or two can come in handy. This chaos will soon end. This chaos will soon end. Change is good. Change is good. You don’t need all your junk: If you haven’t used it in the last year, you don’t need it. You don't need all your junk: if you haven’t used it in the last two years, you don’t need it.
I’ve learned I never want to move again. They’re gonna carry me out of here feet first.
Finally, and apropos of nothing, winter will end. Winter will end.
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