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| KEVLAR: keep your walls bulletproof! |
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| Yeah. This really sucks. |
3,186 miles later, 3 time zones, and 1800 square feet later- we're getting settled here in [sometimes] sunny California. Not contrary to popular advice, moving in with a significant other is hard. Even harder when you couple that with moving across the country where you know no one else and are starting a new job. There should seriously be a book for women that teaches us how to cohabitate and manage our emotions so we don't scream "WHY THE F*** DID YOU THINK THAT <insert awful man-coration here> BELONGED IN OUR <insert room in house here>??" (man-coration:
adjective- decoration from the boyfriend that has existed longer than it should have, and somehow wound up in the new house but won't necessarily remain a permanent fixture). It doesn't help that of ALL my belongings that travelled from VA to CA, my dresser didn't make it. So after a month, I am still functioning via little organized piles of my clothing stacked around the bedroom and the sitting room outside the bedroom. It is really annoying because I hate clutter. And they broke the glass on several pictures, and the frame on another. Rawr! But anyway, back on track for this post...
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| The 1/2 of the garage... |
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| My entry way from the garage. |
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| ...the other 1/2 of the garage. |
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| Man Cave. |
Something about straight men we ladies should keep in mind is that they
are organized [in their own twisted, way], but it will almost never be to most womens' level of satisfaction. This will
not change. It's only been a month of living together officially, and I've accepted it. Why? Well, let's look at the logic- he, like most boys, has been this messy and crazy his whole life. Moving in with me will not instantly make him HGTV organized. Sooooo just accepting what's a fact will make both our lives easier. (oorrrrrrr just mine) Unfortunately, it doesn't stave off my insane, uncontrollable anger that welled up when I looked in our guest room after about a month of cohabitation and realized it was more of a disaster than the day we arrived. The first week I was here, it only took a few days before the whole unpacking and getting settled thing wore out it's welcome. Ben didn't get any extra time off to help me which was just a bummer. And let me tell you, gals- when your man comes home from work, he does NOT want to unpack, fold, organize, rearrange, or clean A N Y T H I N G. Not even his gun. (
well.... maybe). So I was flying "Operation: Sacksen-House-Set-Up" on my own. First thing I realized? Hangers are for his Church clothes. That's it. And to him, the floor is where everything else goes. Seriously.
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| Scary, right? |
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| TADA!!!!! The lamp works, and the sheets are fresh! |
So finally, this past week Ben was working late and really stressed, and my meter had been pegged on the guest room. A few days
prior to the grand reorganization of this room that was about to happen, I'd tasked Ben with taking several boxes downstairs to go in our storage cabinets near the garage. Or at least that's where I
thought they went. Soooo I strolled in on Wednesday afternoon from the beach to see ALL the boxes ALL OVER THE ROOM [on top of all his other shit that was covering the floor and bed]. Yep... That. Was. It. I mentally prepared myself and went in. All I have to say is that it is AMAZING how after only about 2 hours of folding, sniffing (
and shuddering), stacking, hanging, bed making, and organizing- I made the room look like someone could actually sleep there and not wakeup screaming in the middle of the night. Now, it's no where near where I'd like it to look... but with the arrival of his real, big boy dresser it should get most of his clothing out of the cheap plastic furniture he's carried over from college and into the bedroom. Then some pictures and curtains can go up and maybe even a rug on the floor.
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| View from the sliding door. |
In conclusion, living together is a lot of fun because we get to see each other every day- but men and women really are different and learning which battles to fight is a daily challenge in itself. And so far, it's worth it. Stay tuned for more fun posts of our adventures!!!
To clarify, the act of getting engaged is awesome. Words don’t do justice to how it felt seeing the man of my dreams on one knee, blinding me with a diamond ring, in the most beautiful place I’d ever been. I was so stunned that instead of crying like most girls do [or say that they do] I just sorta of dropped my jaw in disbelief and kept saying “Oh my God this is really happening. Oh my God. Oh my God….” Sneaky boyfriend! Unfortunately for most couples, the amount of stress and pressure that soon after follows is more like a nightmare [sorry, babe] that doesn’t seem like it’ll end until after the last “Thank You” note is mailed off. 
In addition to feeling like a terrible Bride because you can’t afford a bag of personalized M&M’s or with your initials and date, everyone (family and/or wedding party) has an opinion. Where to have it. Who to invite. What to wear. What to eat. Which church…the list goes on. RAWR! Help is welcome. Negativity is not. It makes me a cranky-pants-Bride and then my MOH has to regulate!
“Hope you got a pre-nup!” 
