kitchens and bathrooms and hallways and

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind–okay, the drafts folder–I have about seven posts in progress. I’ve got a post about fashion and gender, a post about the sexy people at my workplace, a post about baking, and a few others here and there. But all of those will have to wait, because WE ARE MOVING. Yes, moving. Like, packing everything. Like, giving absurd amounts of money to a new and mysterious (but not too mysterious) landlord. Like, I will be soon be cohabitating with my girlfriend.

That’s a sentence that makes me wince. I guess you’d say I have a slight case of commitment phobia. After two steady years of happy relationship, I still don’t feel ready for the whole apartment-sharing thing. I mean, what if we get sick of each other? What if I hate the way she leaves clothes on the floor? What if I drive her crazy with my incessant need to have a cup of tea on hand at all times? What if it makes us break up? OK, I know that’s silly. But you get the picture. I am, as usual, freaking out.

And, as usual, K. does not understand. It’s really just like how she knows she’s bi and that’s no problem. She knows she loves me and living with me will be good. Case closed. She’s the kind of woman who makes up her mind about something, and that’s that.

I guess I’ll just have to trust her. It probably won’t be so weird after all. Plus, I have a lot to look forward to–it’s a really nice apartment, much closer to my job, with a garden and everything. And, just to reassure me, she’s promised (in detail) to fuck me silly in every room. With an offer like that, who could be scared for long?