“What’s a sconce? What does decor mean? Do we want a table shaped like an elephant?”
–Eric, online furniture shopping.

“What’s a sconce? What does decor mean? Do we want a table shaped like an elephant?”
–Eric, online furniture shopping.

See, I don’t nag him. The clothes do.

Me (whining): “Errrrrric….”
Eric: “What?”
Me (stealing his coffee and drinking it): “I have a headache.”
Eric: <on his phone, likely trying to tune me out>
Me (drinking more of his coffee): “I said I have a headache! Are you listening?”
Eric: <mumbled, what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it response>
Me: “BUT YOU TOLD ME THIS IS YOUR PARADISE!!!!!!!”

Pretty sure this no longer applies.
Eric’s been watching a lot of home renovation shows on HGTV.
“Look, if you stack the blankets sideways, it creates a more modern look.”

I’m having anxiety.
You know how in the movies when a character picks up a long lost friend or lover from the airport, and they spot them from afar and begin waving frantically and dramatically, with a wide, shit-eating grin on their face, because it’s just been so long and they’ve been so far away from each other, they can’t contain their enthusiasm?
That’s how Eric waves to me when I’m in bed and he’s on the couch.
We live in a studio.


I was serious.
Just now, walking in my apartment, I stepped on something extremely sharp that almost pierced through the heel of my foot. I was sure it was a broken piece of glass and began to panic.
Upon closer inspection, however, I realized it was a super dry, likely weeks-old piece of bacon.
So yeah, it’s true what they say. Bacon is bad for you.

Eric: “I feel like I’ve really cramped up your apartment. Is it making you anxious?”
Me: “What?! No, babe…”

“Hey! <poking me repeatedly in the shoulder> Heyyyyyyy. HEY! I’m bored.”
— Eric, 4 minutes after officially moving into my (our?) studio apartment.
This is gonna be great.
