At dinner with the girls on Friday, I casually mentioned clearing out space in my townhouse so Prof could fit his stuff in. The blank stares and confused faces let me know that I had neglected letting anyone know this sort of important piece of info.
So, yup. Prof is moving in with me. To my tiny town house. After our failed house purchase attempt, we were both exhausted and tired of it. The purchase had felt rushed in the first place and when it fell through I think it gave both of us a chance to reassess the situation and do what made the most financial sense: split expenses in my ridiculously cheap house and wait to pounce on a house when we have a little more cash.
Its going to take some serious getting used to. I already feel ill when I think about him being here every. single. day. Every. Single. Night. But then I try to counter that with being happy that he will be here every. single. day. And I am happy that he will be here. And I'm ill at the same time. You all understand, right?
Its not happening until November, but its creeping up on us fast. I have a lot of crap to organize and throw away before he moves in. And he's got a lot of crap to organize and throw away too. And then we have to combine our crap in some way that is going to make him feel at home, and me not feel like he's squatting on my property.
And then I have to try to not go insane.