Cohabitation-- what an odd word, a fancy nouned way of saying Living Together. For such a clinical sounding word, it has a lot of romantic heft. You share an apartment with a buddy, you cohabitate with your sweet lovin' one and only.
Mo and I are looking for an apartment. Although we live in the same place now (the "big yellow house", along with Rick, Lisa, Carla, Charles, and Jared) heading out to find an apartment for just her and me is a big step. A one-year lease is a pretty fair size commitment, even after over a year of going steady. It's a way of striding forward and boldly proclaiming: "I might be willing to maybe start considering sort of spending pretty much the rest of my life with you, possibly, at least to the extent of accepting it's going to be a pain in the butt to break or take over this lease if this relationship sours."
Mo is much more excited about some of the aspects of "a place of our own" than I am. She sees getting out of a semi-communal space as a chance to get nice stuff that won't be broken or poorly taken care of: a bit of decent furniture, non-hodge-podge collections of silverware and dishes, painting rooms warmer shades of off-white than the clinical white landlords seems so fond of. For myself, I have a theory that moving around a lot as a child lets me be pretty much happy in almost any house or apartment I may end up in. Still, I'm coming around to the idea of nice stuff being worth the investment of time and money. Mo and I aren't quite to the point of dual ownership of things we get for the new place, give it a couple years. Not worrying about "whose is this?" is a milestone still a ways down the line. We may have found an apartment already, a nicely setup if small 2 bedroom in Arlington, at a very good rent considering the market around here. If all goes well, home sweet home for just the two of us (and Murphy, the cat) will be set up in April in time for a May move-in. I'm a little nervous, but mostly happy. |