Yours, Mine, & Ours

I've begun the slow process of moving into Mike's apartment. I don't have many boxes, so last night I took some things to Mike's place to unpack so I could bring the boxes home again to reuse.

Tomorrow someone's coming to look at the place - someone who, hopefully, will take it for the month of July so I can be let out of my last month of rent. I'm trying to make the apartment put its best foot forward by cleaning and spackling tonight. The place is getting that depressing, half-empty look that apartments get when you're moving out. At least I'll probably only spend two more nights here - tonight and Thursday.

Last night Mike did a good job of putting up with me as I unpacked, urged him to clean, and put about 10,000 nail holes into his walls. It always feels like home to me when my things are on the walls, and Mike had encouraged me to decorate the living room, kitchen, and bedroom in any way I wanted (and I encouraged him to retain custody of the computer room...after all, he should get a room too).

One thing that trips me up, and probably will for awhile, is the concept of his vs. mine vs. ours. He's slipped effortlessly into referring to everything using the plural possessive, but I'm having more trouble. Whenever I use phrases like, "your computer room," or "my books," he smiles and says, "Our computer room. Our books." It'll be awhile before that's second nature, just as it took awhile for the phrase, "I have to talk it over with Mike before I decide" to become automatic. After four years of living by myself, making decisions by myself, and owning all my stuff myself, it's quite a change. Not in a bad way, either. It's just hard to change your language use, and now I'm getting a taste of what I ask my kids to do every day.

I should get back to cleaning and packing. I want this place to scream, "Live in me! Love me!" tomorrow.