I have lived with Hot Cuban in the apartment formerly known as his for going on three months now.
I have not moved in the bulk of my craft supplies. I had a small portion of the closet and a few drawers in the small dresser. I hung five things on the wall. I bought a sauce pan for the kitchen and stocked the cabinets with tea and soup. That was about it for ‘moving in’. So basically, while I’ve lived there for three months I’ve basically just been staying there while my shit lived in my Moms spare bedroom.
As you can see by the picture above, Sunday that all changed. We’re engaged. We’re going to stay in our cozy little shoe box apartment probably at least until after we’re married next year and maybe beyond. It’s comfortable. I like it. But I needed my shit there. So Sunday we rearranged the bedroom. We unpacked the giant bins of craft supplies that were lurking at the end of the bed. We emptied dresser drawers and packed up things so I could put the mountain of clothes that were living on the boxes at the foot of the bed away.
We also drank an entire bottle of pink champagne. Because it was a fucking celebration, don’t ya know. So now my yarn lives in the closet, my desk lives in the living room and Niobe my beloved spinning wheel is once again in my immediate eye sight and lives at the foot of the bed. Huzzah! Grown up things! Most of my yarn stash is still in my moms spare bedroom but will soon go to its new home at my friends house because we don’t have room for three large boxes of yarn I haven’t looked at in two years.
In this process of thinning things out and finding places for both our things we do end up having pretty interesting conversations.
Hot Cuban: “I just want you to know that once this goes in there nothing else can be pulled out.”
Me: “I know.”
Hot Cuban: “Okay….but there are bras in there.”
this in response to throwing away spaghetti sauce over the top of old bras.
While sorting through my various knitting things it was brought to my attention repeatedly that I have a ‘shit ton’ of knitting needles. Yes, I know. I refuse to feel shame. ‘What is this for?’ was a popular question as well. Usually followed almost immediately by ‘nevermind, I don’t want to know’ with a slow shake of the head.
I don’t think Hot Cuban is fully ready for what he’s gotten himself into. But when the three full sheep fleeces move into the front closet and start stinking up the joint with their Earthy lanolin aroma I think he might get it for reals.