Movement

I'm sitting on my couch, watching a rerun of House, and waiting for K to come so we can go over the co-existance rules and regulations. For the first time in my life, I am voluntarily moving in with someone. A roommate. There are so many reasons to do this: economy, practicality, convenience. There are so many reasons not to do this: personal space, moodiness, someone other than myself eating my peanut butter. In the end, I want to live in an apartment where I have room to move in a quiet and safe location, both of which are currently out of my individual economic means; thus, the roommate. We found a great second floor apartment on Academy Hill in Greensburg. I can ride my bicycle to work, not to mention the convenience of coffee and the gym. But turns, we have to have turns. Cleaning turns, doing-the-dishes turns, taking-out-the-trash turns. These turns were horrible in London, culminated in fights and fights and fights. I thought it was me: I am hard to live with. And perhaps I am, but there are other sides, right?

So now I will share, cross my fingers for the bigger bedroom, and hope I have enough guts to keep things okay.