I AM DONE MOVING AT LAST.
The move happened more suddenly than I expected, and it happened at the same time my workload about doubled. Because of course it did. It had to happen gradually to fit in my work, which seems like it ought to be less stressful, but in reality it left me split, having to keep track of which of my things were where and driving all across town. And feeling disorganized, caught in-between states, took more of a toll on me.
This is my first time moving into someone else’s space. My significant other (hereafter referred to as “SO”) and his two housemates have lived in their house for seven years. This is not like going into an empty house with other people or like sharing a room in college. They have their established ways of doing things, they have their places, and I am trying to fit myself into the cracks.
In this process I’ve also learned that my SO and I need different things from a living space to feel comfortable, which is something I knew in theory but it’s different when we’re figuring out what to do with physical things. He needs enough space for his things, while I need for my things to have spaces. My junk drawer isn’t organized, but it is the place where junk goes. I cull to make sure my things will fit in their established places, while he acquires more space to accommodate his things. Somehow we are now sharing a bedroom, bathroom, and closet. This has been an adventure =).
Everyone — my SO especially, but also his housemates — involved has been very communicative about their needs and willing to help each other be comfortable. Still, every time I think I’m done, there’s another space to arrange. There’s a closet, a pantry, shelves in a kitchen, drawers in a bathroom, desks. There was no organization when I got here, and this makes the THINGS NEED PLACES part of my brain twitchy if left unresolved. It wasn’t enough to get my things here; to feel settled I also had to place them.
In some places I simply added my cleaning or pantry supplies or whatnot to the existing space. Any time I combined my stuff with theirs, I also sorted through which of theirs needed to be trashed anyway to free up space and organized so we could find things. (Oatmeal does not need to be on three different shelves, right? Not just me?) The closet now includes drawers; we each have a sink in the bathroom; for our new bed we acquired a bedframe with drawers; extraneous cardboard boxes and piles of discarded plastic have been moved to more appropriate venues (often the trashcan). The cats have loved this process; I keep moving things around, so they, naturally, have to investigate.
In others, we cleared out space for me. One shelf of comics was moved out of the library so I could move my desk in. It’s a space where I can be seal myself off (until the cats meow at the door, anyway) and have a private space while I work late into the night and the rest of the resident humans sleep. It’s a little space carved out just for me to arrange and use as I need, and that means everything. The cat has found where I keep my ninja caltrop, so I wouldn’t call this place peaceful, but it is what I need.
It was odd to finally leave my last apartment. That was the first place that was entirely mine: I chose it, and I chose everything that went into it and arranged it just for me. Now this is the first place I’m living with a SO, and I think the last month has been educational for both of us. But just as there are new challenges, there are new rewards, too.