Yesterday I went back to my apartment and looked around, trying to figure out what to bring over to LunchBoy’s house next. During vacation, we discussed the whole moving in together thing and agreed that it was almost a moot point considering that I haven’t slept in my Cambridge apartment since early December. Still, all my stuff is there. In Cambridge, I mean. And it’s one thing to talk shop but it’s another to do the actual heavy lifting, so to speak.
We both had bad colds all weekend, probably from all the sick people we were stuck in airplanes with last week. It’s been a bad winter for colds and this one has sapped all the energy out of me. Lunchboy looked so ragged after a trip to Target that I left him on his couch while I went foraging at my place.
Once I got there, I stood in my living room and did a 360, considering the options. But something didn’t feel right. This wasn’t how I wanted to start, not just start the process of moving but start whatever might come after. Alone. He would have come along, so it wasn’t like I was mad. I just didn’t want to start off on that foot. Impatience is easy for me to give in to, but this time I fought it. Even though I can’t wait to have all my stuff in one place, I went back to Lunchboy’s house empty-handed. The heavy lifting can wait a week. I’d rather do it right.