I like to move it, move it
So after a year and a bit of dating, myself and the boy moved in together. It was something he mentioned to me about six months in, actually… and so while everyone else squeed and fluttered around us with glee, we took it all in our stride. We’d been planning on it for a while, it felt only natural, and we both really wanted to do it.
For me, it’s the third time I’ve moved in a year. I must be mad, really, because I truly detest moving. But knowing he was going to be beside me every step of the way (mostly carrying boxes) made this one easy as pie. Well, except for the old, cranky landlord we were leaving behind and the lack of electricity in the new place on moving weekend.
But through all that, we had grins plastered on our faces from ear to ear at the prospect of having our own space all to ourselves. A little love nest, if you will. Somewhere that, for him, felt more like home than always staying in my place; and for me, that didn’t make my clothes mouldy and bedsheets damp. And somewhere I could decorate, of course. Any excuse to shop.
We’ve been in there for a week and everything’s going swimmingly. I feel much less anxious, he feels more at home. I’m trying my very hardest not to turn into a nagging housewife/my mother, and succeeding for the most part. He’s getting used to me “tidying” things away and not being able to find them. I have a feeling we’ll be very happy in our new abode, and I hope we’ll fall into more relaxed lifestyle with more routine. That’s something I’ve been sorely missing these past months.
The best part of the whole move? We got a new bed. With a brand new mattress. It’s dry and warm and doesn’t have any springs poking out of it, or weird lumpy bits. This, and the lack of housemates to bother, means our somewhat flagging sex life has enjoyed a rejuvenation. Hallelujiah!
The worst part? The SEAGULLS. Living by the seaside has its perks, sure… I mean, check out this view! But with the sea, comes the seagulls. Now every morning we’re awoken with the sounds of squawking. But not any old caw-cawing, no. These guys sound like mutant seagulls doing a battle to the death. They sound demented. We’re getting used to it slowly but surely, and I’m certain that in time we won’t even notice their bizarre squealing. In the meantime, the boy’s decided that the cacophony is the perfect mask for the bizarre squealing that’s coming from our bedroom… if we ever, ever get over giggling at the idea of making seagull noises during sex.
Filed under: funsies, musings, snapshots, things I need my boyfriend for | 3 Comments