Jul. 2nd, 2017

nnozomi: (Default)
In not-news-to-anybody-whatsoever, I have too many books. This is becoming all too clear as I try to put them all into boxes (and I feel like I should apologize to the movers for having to shlep them down 3 flights of stairs; at least the new place has an elevator. I hope the bottoms don't fall out of the boxes and nobody throws their back out.).
The point being that I am moving two weeks from yesterday; my sweetie and I are moving in together. This will be the first time either one of us has lived with anyone ever, not counting birth families and college roommates; I'm forty and he's forty-two and it's anybody's guess how it will go, but I'm hopeful. One of the things we made a point of when apartment-hunting was "we each get a room of our own," so the new place has my room, his room, bedroom and dining-kitchen. Sixth floor of a six-floor building, facing west (there's a reason, in subtropical Osaka, why we made a point of getting AC installed before moving in in the middle of July), halfway between two train stations (a bit under an hour's commute for each of us, in different directions). He's been amazing about getting all the nitty-gritty practical stuff done, and I've probably left more of it up to him than I should have done. (On the other hand, he came back with the lease and I looked at it and said "wait a minute, how are the dates on this 2017/7/1 to 2017/6/30?" He didn't notice, the landlord didn't notice, the real estate guy didn't notice. This is what happens when proofreading is part of your job, I guess; or maybe men just don't notice these things.) The long-term idea is that we try out the living-together thing and, if it seems to go well, go ahead and get married. 
Just in time for all this moving stuff, work has become insane-super-ridiculously-busy, 8 am to 10 pm every day, and even so there's no way in hell it will all get done, especially since some of it relies on outside contractors who are doing their best and their best ain't good enough. I feel sort of guilty and quite a lot unhappy that anyone ever thought this would be possible in the first place and even suggested trying to get it done. The worst part will be over by the 21st and I've flat-out refused to take on Part 2 of more-of-the-same under the same conditions, but even so I want to cry at the thought of the next two weeks.
Work will be even harder to get done given that I won't be able to come in Saturday next week or the week after; the 15th on account of moving as mentioned above (SO SUE ME, is it my fault I made plans BEFORE this nutso job came in?) and the 8th for orchestra retreat. Technically I could skip and/or arrive late at the Saturday part of it, but you know what, this happens twice a year and I look forward to it all year and I'm goddamned if I'm going to screw myself over on account of work I shouldn't have to be doing.
So my fantasies of "get married, get a spouse visa, start freelancing full time" have gotten considerably more specific and yearning, from two separate directions. We'll see how it goes.

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