It's the unpacking that might kill you, and the shelf paper that will really test your relationship.
I actually told him to calm down or I would leave. Not leave leave, but you know, drive to Jo's or something.
On the plus side, today our dainty little duplex bungalow quit looking like a war zone and started to resemble a living room.
On the minus side: The kitchen is an absolute clusterfuck of dishes, boxes, food, and little glass bottles. The master bedroom belies some major textile explosion. The office looks surprisingly like the storage room of B&N after a delivery, or even better, the circ room after transit (if you don't work in a library, you don't have any idea what this means).
We won't discuss the actual laundry list of items to fix/repair/replace, or the garden that has succumbed to Banana Plants from Hell.
But, at the end of the day, clusterfucks and explosions and banana plants aside, it's ours, just ours, all ours.
Awesome.
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