Sunday, July 29, 2007

Happy?

Yesterday, my mother accused me of being happy.

"I'm sorry," I responded.

She thought I had misheard her, and repeated herself: "You sound very happy these days."

I repeated myself: "I'm sorry. Should I not be happy?"

I suppose my friends and family are not used to me being happy. It's not as if I was unhappy before; I was perfectly content. I like my job, I like the small circle of friends I have in the area, and I'm a new homeowner. What did I have not to be content about?

But I realized last night that I am, indeed, more than content. I had another poker night. Two friends from law school and Guy From Work came over. Chris cooked and we played poker (I lost everything this time). We talked law (eeeeew!), exchanged stories, and told horrible, tasteless jokes. It occurred to me that I've become a boring adult, what with inviting friends over for dinner and having game night. But this does not bother me. I am happy nonetheless.

In other news, Chris and I have been contemplating his moving in. He lives about an hour away and spends most weekends here; occasionally, he makes a mid-week trek out to see me. He's currently in school and is contemplating a move to this area in the winter, once he has an internship. I thought about it, and it just seems practical for him to live here. 'T'would make financial sense for the both of us. I'm currently using the extra upstairs bedroom as my den and office, and have an empty, smaller room on the first floor that he could make use is he so desires. Suffice it to say, there's enough room for privacy and for each of us to have our own space.

I know it's early in the relationship to even think about this. I know that I've never technically lived with anyone (though for all intents and purposes, an ex-boyfriend lived with me for close to a year when I first moved to this state). I know that I always professed that I had no desire to cohabitate with anyone short of marriage. I know that this goes against everything I've ever wanted or believed. But for some reason, this time, it just feels right.

That makes me happy, too.

1 comment:

Marissa Dupont said...

Randy and I moved in together two weeks into our relationship and it worked out fine--we had our own space and our own hobbies so we weren't in a position to get sick of each other easily. As long as you can respect when the other person needs some space, all should be well. :)