My life is about to take a dramatic turn, and it’s definitely for the better. My girlfriend is moving in tomorrow. I’m very excited, but I also know it will be a big adjustment. I’ve had roommates, but I’ve never lived with anyone before. We did sort of have a trial run by sharing a room in our old beach house, but, as she pointed out, that was more of a vacation situation, where this is everyday life.
I’m not particularly concerned. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Adjustment doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It will just be a matter of reminding myself that, after so many years of living alone, things will be different. It will all be worth it, though, and I’m extremely happy.
We’ve always gotten along well, so the adjustments I’m talking about will be minor, small ones. For example, I guess I can get used to waking up to Z-100 instead of ESPN Radio. But I will really miss Mike and Mike in the Morning, and I may punch the clock radio if I hear “Umbrella” or The Killers.
It will definitely make dinners easier. Not that anyone will leave Emeril’s restaurant for my dining room any time soon, but cooking for two is a hell of a lot easier than cooking for one, and we’ll hopefully both eat healthier and save money.
One thing that will be very strange for me is moving to the other bedroom after being in my room for five years. They’re the same size, so it’s not like I’m downgrading or upgrading, but I’m going to feel like a ballplayer who played several years for one team, then got traded to another club, returning to his old home ballpark — I may start to walk into my old bedroom for a while, the same way returning ballplayers start to walk into the home locker room and then realize their mistake and head toward the visitors’ locker room.
The good thing is that my biggest worry right now is integrating the three cats — two who already think they own this apartment, and one newcomer.
The three animals could not possibly have more different personalities. Trouble, my first cat, is a grump and a grouch who occasionally displays brief glimpses of affection and is thoroughly and completely obsessed with treats. 8-Ball is a total sweetheart who is fazed by absolutely nothing but thoroughly and completely obsessed with food. And Skittles, her cat, burns more energy in three minutes than my two combined do in one month. He definitely has ADD, which earned him the nickname, “Ritalin.” Even when he’s at rest, his tail is constantly twitching. And he is thoroughly and completely obsessed with water, to the point of standing in the bathroom sink, with his head under the running faucet, and getting absolutely soaked.
Again, I’m happy and not worried. If our biggest problem is whether or not the cats get along, I can’t really complain. This is the next chapter of my life and our life, and I guess I had to start acting like a grownup at some point. Hell, I managed to get through 41 years before caving!