Tonight was the best night of the past almost-month because The Professor and I finished -- finished! -- moving everything out of my bachelorette pad (as he calls the Somerville apartment.) Well, except the couch that is, so if anyone in the Boston Metro area needs a nice mid-century piece with *NEW!* foam, then click here. Ahem.
As he finished loading the cars and I stayed upstairs to mop the hardwood floors, I looked around at the empty place that had been so full of my curbside and emotional salvage, and well, life for the past three years, and I suddenly felt forlorn and deeply sad. Naturally, there is only one thing to do at such a time...weep. So I did. I shed the most tears that I've cried since Cho, Half Pint and I saw the movie Evening two nights ago on our Gals Date Night.
Trust me, if there is anything that can expose one's raw insecurities as a younger contemporary woman more than moving out of a bachelorette pad, that thing is Evening. Loss of youth, fear of choosing the right mate, confusion at life's purpose, disappointment at missed opportunities and much, much death...if you crave having these concepts blatantly grated against your vulnerabilities like a potato against a stainless steel mandolin, then go see Evening. I cried six times during the actual viewing AND the entire drive home.
Anyway, I guess that I've been contemplating a lot lately why it's been so hard for me to assimilate to Life-With-Other. It's not anything about The Professor or the endless moving of boxes using only our cars, either. I guess, mostly, it is fear. Fear of losing the independence that has so defined my identity for years now. No more Saturday mornings of wasted time runnings "errands" and then coming home to drink champagne, read UsWeekly and carelessly smoke ciggies on the fire escape. No more insomniatic blogging or hunting of das Germans at 3 am. At least that's what I thought (and, actually, what I hope about the roaches.) Buuuut I guess I'm now realizing that, like living together itself, maintaining the parts of my singleton self which I cherished most (none of which involve torrid rendezvous with ridiculously handsome foreign men, unfortunately) is just a matter of compromise.
So we forge forward, into the landmine-filled area defined as...Cohabitual Decorating. Since The Professor doesn't really have much experience in defining a theme for an apartment's decor, I've titled the style we're going for as "Hollywood Glamour/Golden Era Kitsch." For the purpose of this experiment, I assigned The Professor the role of The New Gentleman.
I told Half Pint and Mr. Car my plan last Friday, when they came over to check out the new place and get some sushi in The Roz. "We're going to make a mood board!" I proclaimed. "I think the visual aid will really help hone our style." The Polish Princess had already warned that I shouldn't expect The Prof to participate in my mood boarding. A roll of his eyes confirmed her suspicion. Mr. Car sounded the final death knoll, declaring, "I have something for your Mood Board" before handing me a label peeled off his Bud Light bottle. Ok, so maybe men don't want to sit around with their live-in girlfriends and thumbtack photos torn out of Domino mag to an old bulletin board. But humor me, Inter-net, ok? Because I am a woman on a mission with little sleep due to new mattress and bedroom light level adjustment. And my mission is COUCH.
Half Pint found this one, which I think looks comfy AND has the appropriate name to go with my theme: The Movie Sofa.
This sofa is also kind of what we're (I'm) going for...not sure about the lime green piping, though. I also like the roughly hewn coffee table:
Speaking of awesome tables, check out this gem, made for A Classic Girl by her wiz of a carpenter hubba-hubby:
Our bedroom is "all bed" like Britney Spears is "all thigh." However, I think a simple accent piece like this red enameled Asian-inspired dresser would make me happy every time I woke up and saw it in the morning: