"Hey girl, will you be my girlfriend?"
And I was like, "Well... yeah."
And then he was like, "Hey girl, you wanna live
together so we can save up and buy a house?
And then he was like, "Hey girl, you wanna live
together so we can save up and buy a house?
...And you'll get to decorate it?
And oh hey, I bought you roses and made
sesame-crusted tuna steaks for dinner."
How could I resist that?! We're going to stay at my condo for nine months, then start looking at houses. Or, as my favorite colleague said, "Jen and Keith are gestating a house." So now we're getting ready to cram ourselves, his two high-energy Pomeranian dogs, my prissy old cat, and hundreds of books into 832 square feet. Gulp.
Keith doesn't have much furniture, and I'm happy to clean out my closets. Unworn clothes, unread books, and unloved tchotchkes can all go. Last week I spent hours getting rid of hundreds of old CD cases so I can turn my black trunk into a linen chest. So I can shift things in my closets. So I can give Keith a closet of his own. It's mad, but there is a method.
I found some forgotten treasures, like a song recorded by my college boyfriend with these cheerful lyrics:














