This whole moving process has been an overwhelming one to say the least. Three flights of stairs, countless filled boxes and lack of sleep are not much of a combination. On top of that, this is by far the most emotional move I’ve ever been through. My parents moved from house to house quite a bit as I grew up so I never had the chance to be overly attached to one place. I don’t recall ever crying or being too sad about a move before. I didn’t think this apartment would be an exception. I guess I forgot all that’s gone down at this place. This is where everything serious about the husband and my relationship began. Our first own place. He proposed to me in the laundry room. I’ll never forget the shiny ring and big smile on his face as he got down on one knee and asked if I’d marry him. This was the first place we slept after saying “I do.” This is where we started our lives together and made promises and love and all that cheesy make-you-want-to-gag-yourself stuff. It’s been a little harder than either of us thought it would be.
It’s also been a very bonding experience for the two of us, packing our life up together. I feel closer to him than I ever have before, and I didn’t even know that was possible. We’ve been shopping for our new fridge and other household appliances together. We’ve rummaged through memories and taken countless amounts of boxes up and down stairs. We’ve argued and laughed and have both been unpleasant to be around with our common lack of sleep. We’ve taken breaks at Applebees by getting tipsy and playing Connect 4 until way too late at night; (Bet you didn’t know Applebees has Connect 4?)….We’ve been married 8 months, but this is the most “We” we’ve ever been. I like having at least somewhat separate lives, but this has been nice. The togetherness of the move. Even,um, when I go crazy over soap. My friend (who’s subleasing) began moving her stuff in yesterday and he comforted and held me when I cried, bless the man. “But…but…that’s our soap in the shower.” I sniffled and pointed to the dried up stuff stuck to the bottom of the tub. The poor man has married a crazy woman, and has remained patient throughout the whole move (and marriage,thus far.) But not without a naughty side, mind you. Yesterday, after I opened at work and was absolutely worn out from this whole moving process, Robby agreed to let me take a nap amidst all our blankets on the floor. Mother F%$^&$ puts a picture of me up on his facebook, labeled “Teamwork.” Okay, fine. It is a little funny. & Even when he pisses me off, I just know this whole moving fiasco is something we’ll both look back on and laugh about. In fact, a few nights ago there was a night that I know will go down in the history books of ‘Christina and Robby, The Early Years.’ I’m going to go ahead and give you more info than you probably want to hear, but hey, I’m warning you first.
I had just gotten off at work, closing shift at Starbucks. I was tired and planned on showering and sleeping. Robby was still packing up at the apartment, so I planned on waiting up for a little bit and then turning in for the night. Until, you see, I got this text that changed all of my plans for sleep. (*TMI ALERT, TMI ALERT*)
“Hey come over here and let’s make love on the floor. That way we can say goodbye to this apartment right.”
I called him immediately. “Are you serious?”
Well, hell. Forget sleep.I showed up, feeling excited and surpising even myself, filled with butterflies. He admitted later that he was feeling pretty excited waiting for me. This, my friends, was special. This was, as my husband said, saying goodbye the right way. I won’t make you gag anymore than you already have but suffice to say, the rest of the night was magical. Steamy and magical. And we definitely said goodbye to all of the memories in the best way possible. By adding just one final (and very sexy) memory to that list.