Musings of a Wench

I had my first panic attack about this last night

I'm trying to wrap my brain around my soon to be quasi single status. I feel, sadly, underprepared.

We've been dating for 5 years, 8 months and 16 days by this point. We've been living together since August 2004, and moved into the house in June 2005. That's more than 20% of my life we've been together. We both moved straight from our parents houses in together after we graduated university. That's like, my entire adult life.

(And yes, of course there have always been a few reservation with the whole fall-in-love-and-mate-for-life-plan we've got going here. All theoretical, however. I would be hard pressed to imagine a better match for me. My only changes would be to render his family far distant, and make him read more. The second is something I can easily live with and the first is probably a life time work in progress. It could be worse. Always.)

In essence, I've never lived by myself. It's not that I think I am irresponsible - I may the bills, keep the house moderately clean, manage to get to work on time every day and have a full life. It's more that... It's a big house, and they require upkeep. John, I swear to god, instinctively knows things about the house. Like: what a soffit is and how to replace them. Or: what to do about a leaky basement. Or: how to replace a kitchen tap without even thinking about it. Or: how to kill bugs without screaming like a girl first. Or: how to rip a second story deck down to the joists and built a newer, far better one, without help. You know, those kind of things.

Not to say he's perfect either - we'd been noticing a bit of a smell in the house, and after scrubbing down the whole kitchen and emptying all the garbages and checking all the mouse traps and plants and such, we were stumped. My mother walked in and said, "when the hell did you last replace your furnace filters??" We looked at each other in puzzlement, then dawning comprehension - the answers was something like, "uh, it didn't occur to us...". There were even some left behind by the previous owners - problem solved, and now we'll never make that mistake again. But, you know, there are all sorts of things.

And then there is the silence. The loneliness. The girl rattling around an empty house. The learning to cook for 1. The responsibility. All while he is 11,250 km and 9 time zones away.

Labels: house, identity, life, solo year, the boy

posted by Morgan @ 9:58 a.m.