Observations After One Week Of Living In Sin

The Fiance and I have been shacking up for about a week now. Here's what I've learned so far:

Planner types need to be more flexible. On the day The Fiance moved to be with me, I had everything planned out on my end. The Fiance and his best friend would arrive about 8pm, we would sit down to a yummy (and expensive) dinner purchased from a local BBQ restaurant, unload the moving truck and be in bed by midnight. Well, the guys ended up leaving 5 hours later than intended, throwing everything into disarray. As a result, I had a big knot in my stomach for hours. All because life had thrown a wrench into my well-organized plans. Clearly, a bottle of chill pills should be kept on my person at all times.

I could never be Laura Ingalls. The Windy City must have really missed The Fiance's presence because on his second night here, Chicago's winds blew into my home city looking for its newly escaped resident, toppling trees and power lines in its furry. We lost electricity for about 36 hours. Never before in my life have I felt so out of sorts (not to mention bored) as I did for those hours I didn't have Internet and cable. Mad props to the Ingalls family.

The Fiance farts. A lot. I inadvertently rearranged the covers this morning after one of his silent but deadly expulsions of gas, and my eyes started to burn and water and the little hairs inside my nose fell out.

The Fiance and I are infected with different strains of slovenliness. I tend to have an organized mess, with various piles of neatly stacked stuff that can sit around for weeks. The Fiance just throws his shit anywhere and everywhere. Since we're both slobs, I feel I should be more accepting of his mess, but honestly, I prefer my form of messiness to his.

The Battle of Aesthetics vs. Practicality rages on. When The Fiance suggested putting an easy chair DIRECTLY in front of the television, I shot his idea down like a scud missile. I have no problem with easy chairs per se, as long as their decoratively arranged, not shoved in front of the TV as if my living room were in a frat house.

I never have to say goodbye. In spite of The Fiance and I's differences, I am absolutely ecstatic that he is here. For good. He's been here a week already and we haven't said goodbye yet. I haven't had to take him to the bus station or the airport. And as long as I don't ride him too hard about leaving his underwear in the middle of the floor, I'll never have to again. That's a nice feeling.