As if it would end there: Adventures in Marital Cohabitation!! Part the First: THE MOVE






I'd rather have a sangria-moon, thanks! My new hubby woke me up this morning with a sweet serenade of nose and throat gurgles (I believe it's a variation of Tuvan throat singing, but with some more nasal elements and some gutteral Germanic influences... Sinuvian phlegm singing?), then a quick one-two elbow to the head and knee to the toosh! I believe he was attempting to spoon with me in the early morning, but his timing was concinnous with my get yer butt outta bed time, so perhaps he was trying to just give me some extra motivation - marriage is, after all, all about supporting each other in mutual and individual endeavors. 

Either way, I think it's obvious from all the wheezing and butt-kicking that we are in fact still concertedly in our blissful honeymoon phase. More evidence that we are truly in full sweetest-month rapture, Mr. (W)right has been practicing his future commute by driving back to Seattle every day this week to finish up his part of the move. Yesterday, he destroyed the perilously tippy Ikea-monster book shelves, and the cot-prison-doll bed from hell. They are now at the dump. If that's not a celebration of the transition to married life, I don't know what else could be. He's also arranging a sort of speed-dating for replacement roommies night - six hopefuls at half hour intervals all through the night tonight. I have told him every so sweetly and gently not to wake me when he drudges his half-living corpse back to the apartment at midnight (although I am fully ready for my nightly sinal serenade!) I had envisioned greeting all the prospective replacements with various weapons and letting them battle it out until there was only one, but apparently, he is hoping that they'll space themselves sufficiently to avoid interaction. Somebody does not know reality-tv gold when he sees it, is all I have to say. 

For me, I've been doing 3/4 time at work, and my own pre-movers moving. I even managed to put some things away at the new place, do that pesky tenant's checklist which is now sitting in a bag somewhere completely out of hand, and load up Andrew's dirty cookware into the new dishwasher before realizing we didn't have any detergent at the house. When I'm not working and moving, I'm beefing up my extracurriculars by participating in my first Institutional Review Board meeting for PeaceHealth. I phoned into the meeting this morning and am so very relieved that I am not expected to vote for my first meeting. I'm following, but it's a whole 'nothing world. 

Yes, lots to do and much of it apart, but there's hardly a dearth of connubial passion. For instance, we are concupiscently collapsing on the couch in little tired love heaps with each other about a half hour before bed time. While murmuring sweet sighs of love and exhaustion, we whisper dulcet nothings about utilities, furniture, and the frustrating impossibility of having internet without signing our souls away to Comcast! Of course, there are the Sinuvian serenades, and retaliatory moans and pokes from a very tired Ms. (W)right... And we have our tamarin-loris mornings together, of course, which has been really fun as a way to start the day with a little more hurah than my pre-marital roll out of bed, throw on nearby clothes, scarf something down, and get into work by 6 schedule.  

At any rate, the day of the big move is nigh approaching and by Friday, we should be living out of boxes at the new place instead of several different locations. Oh how I look forward to that day! Perhaps, in time, I'll recover what's left of my brain, which I believe I may have packed up with my underwear and tights...



We have been moved! Emotionally, yes, quite deeply by our undying love for each other and the sacraments we've yadda yadda yadda... But more importantly, our stuff is now almost entirely consolidated in a single residence. We shall call it home and sing gentle lullabies to it every night before bed. Since we're of that rare breed that never entirely cohabitated before marriage, this particular next step is nearly as daunting and momentous as that little wedding nonsense (less expensive, and not quite as much fun, though). Both +Andrew Wright and I have been trickling our possessions into this "home" place over the past week. Today was the day of the big move - the part where we brought in the heavies to do our filthiest of dirty work for us. As I told Andrew (and then repeated to the movers as if such a comment were actually witty enough for ubiquitous encore), I consider our marriage worth the $200 or so that I invested in not requiring us to carry my enormous tempurpedic through a series of impossibly tight spaces and up stairs... not that I don't enjoy a good Buster Keaton prat fall, but I prefer it if they stay silently sketched in achromatic incandescence.

To celebrate the occasion, I took the morning off work. Mr. (W)right has finally managed to get himself a day without travelling, so we were able to spend the morning together. Granted, I was a tad insane thinking about the logistics of the move and the various additional things I needed to pack before the movers arrived, but there were peaceful and loving moments in there. I'm sure. Like when we looked up internet services and he bought a router while I filled up a bucket with various cooking supplies and muttered about how I hated my possessions! Or, ok, we got a blissful last morning staring at the ocean from my couch there. And a walk to the bank, with a stop at a gas station for coffee. My original idea had been to perhaps "go out for coffee" since the coffee maker was jammed into some shopping bag or other.. But it takes a fairly long time to walk to my bank, and I was starting to get nervous about the endless piles of junk still needing to be thrown in bags before our scheduled ten o'clock move date. 

Although I use movers, I use their skills sparingly. I still managed the moving of most of my possessions. I do this partially to save time, partially because if I am not doing something while they are there I feel very awkward, and partially because I have two thousand reusable shopping bags and think these are far easier to deal with packing and unpacking than the boxes that they would require.  I feel like I did a fairly good job avoiding the "throw everything into a box and continue to transport all that useless crap" curse on this move. I also mostly managed to keep different sacks thematically appropriate for easier unpacking. Of course I am not perfect and there are certainly interesting cross overs like all my financial papers and my swim stuff in a bag... But I have managed to make good progress unpacking things while the movers were loading in the heavy objects. We have something close to a functioning kitchen at the moment!

With the heavy lifting complete and as much unpacking as any lady could handle after a morning of packing (hamster wheel anybody??), I fled. Nominally "to work," and I suppose the price of this excuse is that I shall obligatorily actually have to feign work. But mostly in the vain hope that Andrew would magically feel inspired to complete the rest of the packing and I would return to a home in perfect order. Hey a girl can dream can't she?

Yesterday I went through and sorted out my socks into different themes to put in my tupperware containers. I particularly like to keep my seasonal socks separated out from the pack. It allows for easier access when I want them, and keeps them out of the way when I don't. The newer or prettiest socks go in the over the door hanger (Andrew is being very tolerant with my sock-themed decor, which extends into various fancy socks hanging from the downstairs walls - just so long as I keep them away from his study, closet, or half of the garage... we're good). Of course almost all of these are my sinfully premarital socks, and hardly fitting for a married lady such as myself, but I've always lived a bit on the wild side.



Trying a bit of the sickness and health in the new digs - Last night was our first night in the new place! Of course, we had sagaciously discarded of our old pillows (harbingers of doom, germs and allergens that they were), but had failed to follow through with the prudent purchase of replacement pillows. Surprisingly, the couch pillows were just about perfect for both of us. The room, at least to me, was less eidetic. It does face the sun and did get fairly stuff that evening, until I opened some windows and eventually turned on the overhead fan. That is until, to my shock and confusion, Andrew was cold... I was still sweaty and hot and barely shy of burying myself in a bucket of ice, but I woke at midnight to find Andrew staggering around the room swatting at imaginary flies and searching for the source of the fan. After he turned it off, I explained to him how to turn it down instead of off, but still could not believe that Mr. Self-heating Oven had failed to notice that it was just shy of blistering in the darned room. 

Turned out at about 5 a.m., when I woke with a pounding headache and stomach ails on which I decline to extrapolate, that I had a temperature of 100.5 Fahrenheit (I know many of our friends here use Celsius so I will attempt to translate: I believe that's about, oh, banana degrees celsius). I dragged my roiling ailing body from the room, and eventually things settled down a bit. Within an hour the temperature had dropped a full degree and I was feeling far more capable of moving while actually staying conscious. 

Not entirely sure what any of that means, but I've been forbidden from bringing my febrile self into work and Andrew kindly brought me to my mom's house to prevent me from the inevitable unpacking binge that I would be unable to resist if I had stayed at the new house. I think he had a comfortable alterior motive in bringing me over here, since we also still don't have internet at the house... but mostly it was a gesture of saintly intervention. He's back off to do something ridiculously athletic and I'm back to staring and wondering what foods my stomach will tolerate - kind of like a fun gambling game! So far bananas and peanut butter are just slightly edging out toast and egg whites. And yes, no coffee for me today... it's amazing I'm still awake and typing (although there were many intervening moments where I was not, and there shall be many more to come I suspect!)

But aside from being hotter than an oven in my sensory experience, I love the new place. I think I'll love it even more when the decrepit old dresser and all its drawers are removed from the living room. But maybe I'm wrong and that's the piece that really sells the room. And, yes, we bought pillows on the way over here. Working our way towards a functioning homestead!


Note to self: the washer works better when the water is turned on. 

Feeling much better after a day of intensive sleep-drooling, I hopped out of bed with a bit more ambition and not much more capacity. My first act was to start a load of laundry... it only took me about an hour and a half to realize that the strange signals our ultra fancy energy-saver washer was displaying were not mystical energy-saving runes forecasting my fate, but in fact meant there was a dearth of available water for the washing. Hey, it is energy saving right? It shouldn't need things like water to clean clothes. Just the spirit of mother nature and some hemp leaves! But apparently water helps, since it appears to be actually laundering clothes now... of course one of my socks is caught in the door and is not getting much of a wash, but like hell, in messing with the laundry any more.

For my next act, I overcooked some kamut in the microwave. Naturally, a heady froth of kamutey water erupted and oozed into every crevice of the microwave and bowl. I am proud to say that I was able to salvage a meal from the science project, and now the microwave has been given the cleaning I intended to give it before moving. If there's a theme so far to the morning, it may be that water and I are not getting along too well just yet (and/or, I may still not be back to 100%). 

I did manage to hang some pictures, though. This is due mostly to the fact that the nails were already in place from the prior owners and this no hammers were involved.

Whatever the case, I'm back to feeling ambitious and optimistic about today - our big day to do everything. By everything, I mean a series of things that we won't really have a chance to do once Andrew's back at work, but didn't want to to try before the house was in slightly more proximate a condition to "put together". And we're getting there enough for those next steps. 

First, to my old place to pick up Good Will bags for donating and throw out some remaining trash. Then to the bank to open up a joint checking account for housing expenses. I'd been putting it off in the hopes we'd get our marriage certificate and I could open the darned thing in my new name instead of having to subsequently return to update it with every other annoying babe change errand I have yet to be able to accomplish (but hey it's changed on the internet and that's what really matters), but we really could use a place to put our wedding checks before we start the big spending spree today. 

Yes, the spree. Now that things have been moved in, we finally have a better sense of what additional furniture we'll need. Dressers, chairs, bookshelves, inflatable fun palace, office desk with a replica of Han Solo in carbonite... amazing how we can have so much stuff but somehow still need so much more. Oh the joys of moving!

And of course there's still plenty of unpacking left to do in the interim. Thank goodness I had yesterday to regroup (I.e. sleep for several hours drooling on a couch). But it is definitely all going to be worth it. The place looks a little better every day
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