We made it. It is done. We are moved (note that moved and unpacked are not synonymous), the cats are settled in, life is slowly returning to normal. Between the work gala I had on Tuesday and the move, I’m pretty sure that was the busiest week of my life, and boy am I glad it’s over. Frank and I even borrowed a car and went to Ikea on Saturday to procure the furniture items we required to inhabit our new apartment.
So it’s pretty much cake from here on out. There are some small glitches—no cable or internet yet—but generally it’s all coming together. Which makes it even weirder that Frank and I have been bickering constantly the last couple of days.
You’d think that once the hard part was over, we’d both relax and be nice people to be around, but you would be wrong. We didn’t fight really at all during the weeks between finding out we had to move and the truck pulling up on our doorstep, but the moment things were kind of in the clear, we were at each others’ throats.
I realized, after thinking about it for a little while, that this was a good thing. It’s the leftover pissiness that we’d sublimated for a month finding its way to the surface, like how when junkies get clean they have really bad skin for a while. What is encouraging, at least to me, is that we can work well as team when there’s a crisis instead of being sidetracked by fighting.
We’re both highly moody people, and though we rarely have big important arguments about shit, we can be kind of bickery. The last month, though, there’s been like a combined laser beam of effort shooting out of both of our foreheads. I was predicting big fights and lots of tears, because when there are small problems there are small fights and a few tears, but nope, no arguing. Tiredness and tension, yes, but grumpiness was mostly directed outward.
I’m not going to make some cheeseball pronouncement about how this crisis brought us closer together because c’mon, getting kicked out of your apartment isn’t a crisis, but I think that we are both kind of encouraged to know that if something happened, the other one would cut the shit and get done what needs to get done.
Which is what partners are for, right? Someone to have your back when things aren’t going your way. Someone you can present a united front to the world with. It’s just nice to know that there’s evidence now that Frank and I can do that when we need to. I am comforted to know that if I lost my job or got sick or something, that I’d have backup. Not like I honestly thought I wouldn’t but, now I’ve got proof.
And now I know for next time that emotional crap bubbling to the surface is a sign that things are returning to normalcy, which is such a relief. I’ll take a week of back and forth about where the over-the-door hanger is going to go and who has to carry the heavy paint cans home any day if it means I can have free time again. Hooray!