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Saturday, Jul. 24, 2004 - 7:04 p.m.

After two years and two months (the longest I have lived in one place since 1996), I am moving again. Yes Ė after talking about it on and off for months, L and I have decided to, as my landlord put it, ďcohabitate.Ē My landlord sounded disappointed in me. My mom will be disappointed in me; she had an uncharacteristically conservative reaction when I brought up the idea with her a few months back, telling me to just get married. I havenít told her Iím definitely moving yet.

I posted an email to my old grad student listserv about all the stuff I need to get rid of, and Iíve already had four emails. I may not have timed this right; really, I need a bed for at least another week or two, and the vacuum would come in handy as Iím cleaning the apartment for the final time. But I love getting rid of things. Iíve put five boxes in my car to take to Lís and already I like this apartment better. This does not speak well for my coping with Lís mountains of stuff.

When I try to imagine living with him, the only thing I really worry about is stuff Ė what to do with all our belongings, how I can convince L that not everything in the house has to be forest green Ė dumb stuff like that. I havenít been able to decide if itís just easy to project relationship fears onto physical items, or if these are actually my only worries. I think itís a little of the former, because the single thing I am most sad about is that we wonít be using MY dishes and pots and pans; I donít want to get rid of them, though, because theyíre like an escape plan. If I ever have to freak out and be single, I want to be able to grab the box full of skillets and bowls and set up my own apartment all over again. But itís not as though we need a closet full of doubles: a second blender, a fourth stereo, my unused backpacking equipment.

I do have one nonmaterial worry, I guess, which is the same worry I would have no matter who my new roommate was going to be. I am really good at living alone. I really like to listen to This American Life and the three programs preceding it all alone on Friday evenings, slouching around the apartment in a tank top and underwear with a cigarette and a beer, cooking something fancy and clearing my head of all the weekís noise. L has one other band besides the one we are in together, so Iíll have at least one night a week to myself, but we will have to be very careful to stay out of each otherís way sometimes.

Speaking of which, the room where we keep our guitars and amps is going to be absurd: at least seven guitars and, by a rough count, ten amps. Books and records will also be a serious presence. Come visit us!

The best thing about moving, besides getting rid of things, is listening to Fugazi and Johnny Cash really loud, caked in dust and sweat with my eyes shining because I really love moving, and Iím really good at it.

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