September 14, 2004

Where is my underwear?

Last week, I had mentioned that my marriage had survived MOVING. It was our first move as a married couple and it was just as interesting as I thought it would be. It all started when earlier this year, my manager flippantly asked if I would like to buy his house. To his surprise, I said I would discuss it with the Husband. After viewing the house and considering the big savings in price due to the lack of realtor fees we decided to go for it. The past few months have been an exercise in getting reacquainted with all my junk and sadly, it has become quite clear that the Husband has been correct all along – the vast majority of our possessions are indeed mine. Also, I believe in keeping things. Oh, I don’t know – like my great-grandma’s china, 100 year old Japanese tchotchkes that were my great-great-grandma’s, my track medals from high school – meaningless items like that.

It certainly didn’t help that the Husband’s version of moving involves trash bags and a suitcase – everything not thrown away gets packed in a suitcase while the furniture is returned to the store it was rented from. In his defense, he was living in corporate apartments, but still….. I, on the other hand, pack items with neat labels indicating contents and preferred location. My husband didn’t understand why I was so picky. Couldn’t comprehend why I was baffled by OPEN shampoo bottles up-ended into boxes. Couldn’t appreciate why I was peeved with clothes stuffed randomly in boxes, suitcases, laundry baskets.

Moving to a new house elicits so many conflicting emotions – most people assume they will lead a happier, brighter life if only they could get a new house. Logically, I knew this wouldn’t happen and I did try to resist the temptation in thinking the new house would solve all my problems (New house! Skinnier me! Husband finally mows lawn, picks up socks, washes dishes!). Our new house is much nicer and the neighborhood is much better. Despite this improvement in our circumstances, I still mourn the old house. It was my home, after all and I will miss certain aspects of it.

However, overall everything went fine. Well, I guess we ARE missing a leg to our bed and spent several nights in the spare bedroom before figuring a stack of books would suffice in the meantime. But it went fine. Really. It did. Okay, yeah, I guess the flooding from the ice machine water line that the mover attached was a bit of a nuisance, but who am I grouse? Non-warped wood floors are way over-rated.

Needless to say, the moving process was a little taxing. But hey, we’re still married.

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