This past week, I've been cataloguing single girl behaviors that will change when G moves in nine days from today:
* piling clothes on the bathroom chair or bedroom floor at the end of the day
* accumulating socks at the bottom of the bed, a different pair kicked off during sleep each night
* leaving the bathroom door open
* saving toilet flushes (to be green. i swear it's not gross.)
* eating ice cream directly out of the carton
* surrounding myself with pillows in bed each night
* sleeping with assorted writers. Michael Perry and the gang at the Oxford American are popular lately (clarification: i tend to slip whatever book or magazine i'm reading before i fall asleep over on the other side of the bed, under the pile of pillows).
We're making progress, slowly, though most rooms are in disarray. The CD's are expertly alphabetized and arranged. Closets are emptying and refilling in the best use of space. We've moved Cloud (the new mattress) from the green room to the other bedroom.
soon to be book-lined study
And how do you know someone really truly loves you?
When they put up with you naming inanimate objects (see, Blossom (mixer), GSexy (car), and Cloud (bed)). And, when they willingly sleep in . . . a pink room.
That, my friends, is love.
I painted the pink room last memorial day weekend, less than a week before our first date.
What a difference a year makes.