Tiny Houses and Pipe Dreams

He and she had watched a documentary on Netflix about Tiny Houses and the movement surrounding it. They had decided long ago that they would rather have a smaller house that was really nice while having extra money to travel and go out to dinner on occasion. This was, however, a very tiny light at the end of a long tunnel since they still had plans to further their education. He had recently traded his motorcycle for a boat that resided at the apartment until they decided whether to fix the old thing or make another trade. The documentary had inspired their need to live simply and to create their own environment.

He had found a beat up trailer that held half of a camper at the front on craigslist that a man two hours from them agreed to a trade for the boat. The problem was that his tiny $700 beat up Ford Ranger could barely pull the weight of the boat let alone a large gooseneck trailer. He willed it to work, installing the proper gooseneck hitch in his truck bed. They made a few trips to the local habitat REstore, finding around 20 square feet of Maple wood that they wanted to put in the kitchen of their tiny house. The excitement was mutual as they thought of what it would be like to completely uproot their lifestyle and mold it into something new.

The day came for the trade, a frightening time for he and she that would be followed by excitement for their Mexico trip with his family (That is if they made it to his parents house). Early that morning they made sure their cats were taken care of for the duration of their trip, hiring someone from her work at the school to make visits while carrying all of their luggage down the steps of their apartment. The boat was heavy for its size as he began to attach it to the one hitch he had attached to his bumper. As he released the weight onto the rear of his truck, there was a noticeable dip as the bumper lost more and more space from the pavement. It wasn’t too bad, except for the fact that the wheel of the boat trailer was stuck in contact with the ground, unable to be turned up for driving. He was able to prop up the back end of his truck to remedy  the issue though the small prop wheel had to be placed at a 90-degree angle or it would collide with the road if they bottomed out.

They took it easy, only going around 45mph in a 55mph area to ensure their safety. The boat was making a violent dent in his gas gage as they drove the allotted amount of miles toward the trailer. Sadly enough, this half of the trip wouldn’t be nearly as stressful as what was to come. When they reached the man’s house, she understood why MapQuest couldn’t find it. The tiny farmhouse was nearly covered in overgrown weeds that felt like a page out of ISpy as she caught glimpses of tiny trinkets and tools splayed across the lawn. The man also had a few other boats parked in front that looked as though they had found their permanent resting place. He jumped out of the truck to greet the man as she stayed put in the passenger seat. With the windows rolled down she could hear him exchange facts about the boat as well as, “Do you have a bathroom?” He ended up just going in the man’s back yard instead of a nearby rundown camper that the man initially offered up. She, too, had to go but with no running water and outside this strange man’s house, she decided to just hold it. The sooner this exchange was over the sooner they could finish up their treacherous journey.

Attaching the beast of a trailer to the back of his tiny truck was a feat. His tires looked ready to burst as the weight was lowered down onto the gooseneck hitch. “Well, I hope we make it to my parent’s house.” He said with a nervous look in his eyes. For three hours, they listened to the burps and hiccups of his truck in agony. Stopping to get gas, they bottomed out causing a simultaneous gasp. Luckily, they got back on the highway safely, going 45mph again.

After an hour and a half of driving to his hometown, the beast bouncing on the trucks rear tires, the engine began to heat up. “If it gets to a certain point I’ll have to pull over for an hour at least.” She sighed, hoping they didn’t have to live through the fear and torture of this journey anymore than they had to. He slowed his speed even more, which fixed the heat issue. When they finally reached a close point to his house, the tension grew. There was smoke flying from the back of the truck. The source was unidentifiable with the massive trailer hitching a ride. Pulling into the driveway of his parent’s house, she noticed how she hadn’t been breathing as deeply as normal, the stress must have clutched on her lungs, holding a firm grip until they arrived safely.

The journey was long but they survived with the promise of Mexico right around the corner.

The End of a Partnership

He and T had been friends for a little over a year until a cavalcade of events that led to their demise. They had begun a business, renting a studio to be able to build their artistic product. T had eventually moved out of he and she’s apartment because it hadn’t been running smoothly. The studio was T’s new apartment and described it as the ideal situation, which made he and she wonder why T had ever lived at their place. After a month of saying he would move out, T still had all of his stuff at he and she’s apartment.

He had gone to the studio one morning to continue the countless hours he had spent building a loft, an office, and storage space in the studio (while T did anything else elsewhere). To his surprise, he saw all of his stuff piled into the middle of the shop floor (stuff T had said could stay there while it was listed on Craigslist to be sold). He was obviously shocked and upset, going back to the apartment to begin packing T’s things up and putting them out in the hallway.

She had been organizing her own stuff, sitting cooly by as he packed with ferocity. He explained the circumstance and she became equally as upset. At this point T had stayed with them two months and hadn’t paid a dime of rent. When he went back to the studio, he and T somehow made up as he asked T to kindly pick up the stuff that now riddled the hallway of the apartment.

After that incident, things seemed to be going fine though T still had the tendency to act as though the business was solely his, never mentioning he in any business related conversation, even when he was standing right next to T. He was getting very frustrated after working on the studio for over 60 hours, building and developing with little help from T, who was busy collecting new friends and giving them all keys to the studio. Their roles were like that of Blaire’s mignons in Gossip Girl (which he and she are not ashamed to say they had watched).

He was beginning to feel pushed out of the business and the friendship, getting irritated by the negative feedback he was hearing from people in their inner circle about himself. He had been spending the past week recruiting cliental for their business, successful on three accounts. These work orders were what was going to get them the laser they needed to make their products. He and T were on okay terms at this point, progressing in their business venture.

T’s fiancé came down from Seattle. After that, he and she didn’t hear from T in a week. He had gotten frustrated, not wanting to intrude on the reunion that was going on at the studio, but also not happy that he couldn’t work because of it. Finally, he got a text from T. The text stated that T felt he was the only one doing anything for the business.

T expressed that he thought that He wasn’t bringing anything to the table. This made he irate, thinking on all the times during the protest where he supported T, thinking on all the hours spent building, all the stress from gathering clients to be eligible to lease-to-own the laser for their company…or as it always seemed, T’s company.

They decided to meet for a final beer. She thought they would work it out during the interaction, but when he walked back through the door of the apartment, his face said the opposite. It was over.

T had said all the people in their inner circle, including their artist professor, had said it would be stupid of T to go into business with he (which he found later that night was a fabrication of T’s imagination). She was severely upset at this news, knowing just how much time, energy, and money he had spent on the rise of the company, the one where he had no chance of making a name from. T had painted he as the bad guy, which couldn’t be more wrong. He and T signed handwritten documents stating that he must have all his stuff out of the studio in 30 days.

She had no idea what to do or say, as she spotted the heartbreak on his face that night. He jumped right into the shower as she moved to the bedroom to give him some space before he fully explained the outing. After a long 15 minutes, he seemed to be in better spirits. “I don’t need him. Everything will work out and hey, now you and I can move in a year and do our own thing. This is for the best.”

“You make me want to cry right now.” She could feel her eyes twinge, knowing his hurt but proud of his resilience.

“Don’t cry, sweetie. Everything will be fine.” They spent the weekend taking all his stuff (even the stuff T thought he could hide from him, though there were a lot of things of his that T had thrown away without asking) to a two car garage he rented through their apartment complex. As he began to organize his stuff at his own personal studio, she could truly see just how okay everything would be.

Catching Up!

Over the past month, he and she had been the most busy they had ever been. They had moved from separate apartments to one apartment. T had moved in with them for the first month, but recently moved out due to living conflicts. He and she had realized they had tried to live together for four years and another person moving with them caused them to nit pick often. Anyone that moved in with them would have had to deal with that. He and she were a team who liked their own personal space with each other. It was difficult, but he and T remained friends and business partners. She had gotten a job at a private Pre-6 school as the office assistant manager after graduating. Her family had come down to visit her, which was fun and helped him better connect with them. A couple weeks later, he and she made a trip to her hometown to visit her parents. There were several morel mushroom excursions along with some kayaking as well to kick off the summer.

Now, he and she are currently going through the summer awaiting their trip to Mexico in a few weeks. He will begin his last year at the University in the fall, while also building the studio and selling products as he and T had begun already. She will continue to work at the school until they decide to leave the place they have resided for the past four years.

The Protest

He had been stressing about it since the night before, expressing concern about his own collegiate status and whether he, too, would be reprimanded by association to T and the expulsion. She had work during the first few hours as he and T rose early that morning to make signs. Their world-renowned artist-professor had stayed closely tied with them through the duration of meetings and the final act of expulsion. Once the protest was up and running, their professor decided to come outside the art building to give them water and ask how the process was going. Though only out there with them for ten-fifteen minutes, the professor received a phone call that ultimately lead to a suspension, followed by an investigation of safety precautions the woman had supposedly mis-taught in the classroom. It seemed like another act of retaliation with the association to T and his cause.

“Leave Your Free Speech at the Door.” One of the signs read, signifying that the art building had become a place where freedom of speech was unwelcome. When she arrived it was one of the first one’s she saw. She pulled in to the parking lot and walked over to the protest that was only five people strong three hours in. They stayed out there holding signs as the yearly art fest was going on to attract to most attention. Several cars passed asking what the protest was for. Some even walked over to obtain more information, to which T handed them all the evidence of the events leading to this point. There was the initial faux sign-up sheet that T had put in the bathroom to call out the several numbers of sign-up sheets that riddled the art classrooms, some almost as pointless as a sign-up sheet for the bathroom at the collegiate level. T also had the open letter he had sent out across the art department calling out the director of art and art history after he had threatened him behind closed doors, as well as the expulsion letter that removed T from the school for reasons that seemed to be made up in order to get T out of the University.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to associate herself with the protest. After all, she was graduating that month and wanted to be able to get her diploma after coming this far in her education. Luckily, no cops were called and he and she were able to leave at the end without any further retribution. She went for him. He knew that she was there to support him because she loved him and stood by him when he needed her. After the protest ended, he, she, T, and one of T’s students from the class he could no longer teach, went to eat. The conversations over dinner were much more relaxed than those the night prior and the morning before the protest. From the evidence, T and the professor spoke with a lawyer who wants to help them push forward with a class-action lawsuit against the University.

 

Long Road Trip

T had suggested they go see a famous artist that would be only a 2-hour jaunt away. Going into it, this is all she thought they would be doing. After getting in the truck, he and T explained that they would be going 2 more hours on top of that in the opposite direction to pick up T’s new motor cycle. The majority of the ride was spent discussing T’s expulsion from the University. It began with a mere act of free speech against policy and turned into a whirlwind of meetings involving the director of art history. The expulsion was said to be about T not following policy though the expulsion seemed more so like an act of retaliation to an open letter T had dispersed across campus addressing the issue.

He was vibrating with stress over a planned protest they would hold the next day at the art building. She complained about being hungry since she had forgotten to eat earlier. They stopped at a Maid-Rite for dinner as she searched for the number of local news stations that may be interested in covering the protest. He and T got Maid-Rites while she insisted on a chicken sandwich, not knowing what a Maid-Rite was. He made her try his, attempting to pull her from her pickiness and try something new.

She took a few bites of her sandwich when he asked to see the inside. “Babe that’s undercooked.” He said, already surveying the tiny restaurant for a staff member to remedy the problem. “Sir? Can she get another chicken sandwich? This is raw.” The man looked dissatisfied with the observation and began to cook another.

“Great. Now I’ll have a spit sandwich instead of a raw one.” It was done the second round, though she had lost her taste for chicken.

Once back on the road, the same strenuous conversation continued, including what kind of posters they would use, who would come, and what their chances were of being arrested. They pulled into the parking lot that appeared to be relatively barren for a show to be going on. Walking in, they didn’t hear the echo of a lecture or the muffled sounds of a listening audience. All that was there was a woman, older, with the stature of a librarian. “Is this where the artist lecture is?” He asked the woman who looked back with regret to say it was over and that they had just missed it.

The disappointment was only a lingering feeling that dissipated quickly. He, she, and T decided to see the artist’s work that was displayed outside down the street. He and she decided that they would go to the Apple store, since it was the closest one to them and possibly fix the issues with their phones.

The mall the store was in was very large as they walked in with wonder. T went off to do his own thing while he and she waited for the geniuses to help them. A man attempted but both scenarios would have cost them each $200. Upon that news, they got up and left, deciding to deal with their personal degree of phone misfortune.

Back in the truck, T and he talked more about the situation, rehashing every detail. The final two hours to T’s motorcycle drug by until they finally reached a house in a cul de sac. He spent several minutes questioning the sellers as a group of four or five put the bike into the truck bed. The sellers had been mechanics and had refurbished the bike themselves.

She and he knew they wouldn’t be home until one but accepted it as she laid her head on his shoulder, falling asleep, only to wake minutes from home. He walked her inside and they both gathering in each other’s arms to rest up for the big protest.

Motorcycle Lesson

He had currently purchased a motorcycle (a Yamaha FZR 600 for only $400!) that needed some work done, more than he knew. When he and she had just begun their relationship four years prior, he coaxed her on to the bike he had at the time. She was very wary of accepting his offer due to the fact that she had never road on one before. He handed her a helmet and showed her how to hang on to him. At this point, they weren’t yet dating, so the idea of having her arms around him was mystical. She leaned against his back, pressing her chest into it firmly. Her arms traced the outside of his waist until they met and clasped in front of him. When he took off, she would accidentally head butt him, not yet getting a feel for the touch and go of the throttle. He brought a hand down on her leg, comforting her fears and she hugged him in closer, taking in the smells of the air enveloping them as they drove at high speeds. He had to teach her how to lean with the turns, something that was very frightening to a newbie, since she felt like she would either tip them, fall off, or scrape their legs on the pavement. He enjoyed her adventurous side, the one that got her on the bike in the first place. She was always intrigued a the way motorcyclists always raised a friendly hand at other motorcyclists. It felt as though they were part of some big club where everyone was friendly. After seeing scary biker dudes on TV, it was almost difficult to believe.

He later sold the bike because the payment for the insurance was a cost he didn’t have the money to keep up with. About a year or so after they had been together, he bought another one. This was during their rough period but was a way for them to take break from the constant anguish of their relational state. He soon sold that one as well, again needed all the extra money he could scrounge for rent and food.

The new bike, though not yet running, was his next attempt to ride again. Each time they would see one pass them, they would say, “Man I wish we had a motorcycle.” One of his newer friends from the university, J, had just gotten a motorcycle he found for a good price, though he still had yet to get a license. He, being the helpful man that he is, offered to teach him one weekend. T was also in the market for a motorcycle, also not knowing how to ride yet. J and T both were planning to have him teach them all he knew about passing the test and how to ride. She decided to just be a tag along.

The four of them found a late parking lot at the local community college. There was luckily a random orange cone in the lot that he used for exercises he created on the spot. At first, he began showing them how to use the clutch and find the “sweet spot” where they would switch from clutch to gas. J was learning quickly while T seemed to catch on a bit later in the game. Moving on, he showed them how to swerve and turn and drive until they noticed a morphing in the clouds above. It was going to rain.

He and she had an experience a couple years prior where they got caught in the rain without helmets (which is ill-advised). The droplets felt like bullets as they collided with their exposed skin. They took refuge at a local grocery store, waiting over a half hour until they decided to suck it up and get back to his apartment. The experience, though painful and dangerous, was a moment they had that connected them briefly in the midst of difficult times. It was a moment she clung to.

He and J rode back to J’s house on the motorcycle while she and T went back in her tiny silver car. The rain had begun only slightly as they reached J’s house. He burrowed the motorcycle near the side of the house as J covered it before a down pour.”I want to get a bike so bad. I think I am going to get a loan for it.” T stated before he and she went back to his place. Later that week, T was able to sell a piece of art for enough money to buy one but that’s another story.

Bonding and a Bonfire

The move-in date was looming over them as they decided to spend majority of the day together without T. He had really wanted to start roller-blading, remembering his mad skills he had back in his childhood. Like a child on Christmas, he ripped open the large box of rollerblades, sliding in his foot and snapping down the clasps. They looked similar to ski boots though he found they weren’t quite as durable when one of the clasps broke off in his hand. She was focused on riding her bike around instead.

They made it outside, going to the gas station to fill her tires and traveling less than a block before he realized that rollerblades had somewhat lost their luster. They immediately headed back to the apartment so he could switch to his bike. They rode several miles to her apartment for fun, exercise, and to spend overall quality time together. After they rode back to his neighborhood, they decided to stop at the cafe a block from his place to get a coffee and a pastry to share. The day was bright and sunny with a gentle chill in the breeze. He and she sat outside of the cafe discussing their next activity and enjoying their espresso coolers. She ripped the chocolate filled pastry in half, handing him the bigger portion as he told her of a garage sale going on near them. “We have to go!” She exclaimed, finishing up her last bit of chocolaty goodness. They rode back to his place with their bikes and traded up for her car, both equally excited to see what was at the garage sale. On the way, they also stopped at local habitat store that had cheap household items that had been donated by the locals. He and she were really in the market for a washer and dryer but there were none available.

The  garage sale was held by a couple that had just sold him a motorcycle a few days prior. It was a definite fixer upper that would more than likely set him back more than he hoped. They peered into the garage with wonder and excitement, picking up random things and calling out to the other about how awesome it was. She found a Diaper Genie that was five bucks, excited to get it for the cat poo, hoping it may combat the smell. He found a really nice pair of ski boots, skis, and poles all for just $25. They got a few smaller items as well and left feeling satisfied.

Hunger got the best of them as they decided to get a burrito. On the way, they noticed an antique shop going out of business. They stopped in, intrigued by things but never buying anything. They again sat outside of the burrito place, one hand gripping the burrito, the other intertwined in the other’s loving grasp. “I am really happy we got this chance to hang out and have some alone time. I really missed this.” She explained.

“Me too, baby. I did it on purpose.” He said, knowing they both needed the extra time together before the move and also because they hadn’t had much alone time as it was.

T had texted him saying he was back in town and wanted to go mushroom hunting. She obliged, happy that he had made an effort for her. The three of them headed out to the spot they found several the year before. Morels were big where they are in the spring season. The year prior, the three of them shared a delicious meal of Morel risotto. The forest was magnificent as they clambered around in search of the tiny mushrooms. After a while, they realized that they were a tad too early in the season to find any. “We should go down the road and check to see if they are by the pine trees , since they hold in moisture. You comin’ sweetie?” She had been lagging behind due to feminine issues that caused her much discomfort.

photo-4They reached a rundown barn, intrigued by the subliminal nature of it. Walking toward the structure, he expressed that they should be quiet and attempt to stay hidden since it was private property. “I am coming back here to paint this.” He said to her as she smiled and agreed. T had already gone inside, looking around at random toys and oddities that were strewn across the dirt floor. An orange cat scampered past them, frightening her a bit.

After a while they decided to walk back to her car. He could see the discomfort on her face and offered to give her a piggy back ride. In the truck, she stroked her hair in search of ticks coming out with what seemed to be none. Several minutes later, she felt something clawing its way across her forehead. The sensation caused an immediate reaction as she peeled it from her skin, realizing that it was a tick. She freaked out, panicking about what to do while dropping onto the seat. She grabbed a piece of tissue and held it overtop the tiny nuisance. T pulled out his pocket knife, grabbing the bug from her and cut it in half. “There. It’s dead.” She sighed with relief, turning back around to face the road. He had been driving while the drama had happened, not too involved when she realized there was something at the end of his hair…ANOTHER TICK! T grabbed that one as quickly as the last, serving it with the same demise.

He and she showered immediately upon returning home. T went to run some errands before meeting back up with them to pick up a desk for her that was free. The desk had sadly not been up to par as they drug it with them to the campsite where they would burn the wood that she was finally able to rid from the trunk of her car after almost a year of them occupying the space. Beers were cracked and hot dogs were cooked as they all sat around the illumines  fire. A man from the campsite next to them brought over some blueberry cobbler, that was a meager attempt but the trio appreciated the gesture, eating it willfully. The night ended in darkness as they tried several times to put out the fire before driving off and separating for the night. He and she took in the night together at home, relaxing as a duo.

 

Karaoke Bar

The night had begun a bit rocky. After months of job searching, she had gotten a research assistant position in psychiatry at their university. On this particular Friday, she received a call from the university explaining that they may have over-hired and that she would probably be dropped. A wave of depression crashed over her. She called him crying, unsure of what to do about money, since she had already given her two weeks at both of her jobs. The stress she was under covered her face like a mask as she walked into his work. “Are you okay sweetie?” He asked, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back, leading her to one of the galleries in the art building.

“I just feel really depressed. I really wanted that job”

“I know sweetie, and it’s shitty and highly unprofessional that they would do that on such short notice after you filled out paper work.” Her start date was supposed to be that Monday and she had done four hours of IRB training on top of it. He tried to draw her attention to free food and a showing of someone’s installation at the art building. They walked around the building for a while wasting time until he got off at seven. His friend T, the one moving in with them, was going to meet them at a lecture being given on Frank Lloyd Wright.

He and she arrived, finding a place to sit in the front row. T showed up a couple minutes late, sitting next to her. He and T had a conversation about the art director being there, which had been a constant debacle over the past few months. T had criticized school policy and had been going to meeting after meeting with this man intimidating and threatening him. T had planned to do an open letter about the situation, especially due to the fact that the director had blocked T from the following year’s registration.

As the lecture progressed, the trio found themselves utterly bored and disappointed though the afterword of discussion was slightly comical, since the speaker choked on his spit and claimed he was merely losing his voice. They all left, in need of a couple beers to take the edge off of a long week. “Do you want to go to the karaoke bar?” T asked the group. Her eyes lit up. She had been begging them for weeks to go, since she hadn’t sang for a crowd in at least a year. Suddenly, there was a veil of excitement draping over them.

He had his doubts going in. “I hate going to new bars. I always feel like when I walk in, everyone is wondering who the new guy is at their bar.” She and T laughed, as that exact thing happened. The place was run down and seemed like the perfect hangout for veterans due to the amount of American flags decorating the walls. T went to a separate counter to get food while he and she stopped around the corner where the bar was. An older couple, looking ragged as though many years of smoking like a chimney had caught up to them, was heavily making out, not even noticing he and she had walked up. He ordered them a pitcher and brought it into another room that resembled the plastic wood walls and aesthetically unappealing look of the DMV. There was a table set up where anyone could walk up and choose whatever song they wanted to sing. He, she, and T noticed a slew of awful performances, though recognizing that sometimes this was the point of karaoke.

She made a point to chug her first beer before going up with the first song of choice, “All of Me,” by John Legend. Standing up there, her heart had been pounding out of her chest, restricting her airflow. The thumping of her heart rocked her voice in places she was dissatisfied with, but as the song ended, regulars shouted out nice things at her. When she sat back down, he wrapped his arm around her back and offered her another beer while praising her courage.

They listened to a few more performances, some good and some awful, until she went up one last time singing, “Misery Business,” by Paramore. At that point, she had exerted enough energy for one night and slammed the last of the second pitcher they’d brought to the table when she’d been singing. He was proud that she was able to get out some frustration singing. She had no other place to sing, since her apartment complex complained that it was too loud. The trio headed out to the car, ending the night somewhat early. The beers had relieved enough stress to get them through the night.

Adult Theater

There was a new place that had opened up in their college’s downtown area. It was a theatre that played mainly movies for adults, such as documentaries, adult cartoons, and the occasional porno (or so they’ve heard). On this day, she was busy at work making several cookies for an upcoming musical at the local high school; 175 cookies with the faces of Annie, Daddy Warbucks, and Sandy. He had suggested earlier that she come to this theater with him to see a film called, “Trashed.” It was free to the public but first come first serve. With only 50 seats in the tiny theater, he and she left at around 5:15 for the 5:45 showing.

When they got there, they walked down a long hallway of windows that gave a peep-show into other stores. At the very end of this large building’s hall was a glass door to the theater. It was very cozy and modern in structure and decor, brand new. They walked right past the concessions and into the dark room, hoping to find seats and surprised to see so many available. They chose a spot at the very top, which was equivalent to the very middle of a regular sized theater. As they got comfortable, she noticed a man walk in with what looked like a glass of wine in his hand. It would be awesome if a theater served alcohol, she thought to herself. He was thinking the same thing as they both began to discuss it. Not wanting to lose their relatively good seats, they went out one at a time returning with a beer. There had been several beers on tap, though he and she returned with different hues.

They were pleasantly surprised by the scene of this theater as they cozied up next to each other, sharing a small popcorn and testing out each other’s beers. He had chosen a dark beer, while she had picked out a very light beer. “This is awesome!” They said almost in tandem, clinking their glasses together. She lay her head on his shoulder, content as he kissed her forehead in the blackness of the small space. Glints of light struck their faces as the movie began flickering to a start. She stuck her arm through his and snuggled as close as she could get. They both smiled, enjoying the movie equally and deciding to make a stronger effort to recycle once they moved in the coming week, but that will be another story.

His Friend the Roommate

He and she had begun collecting boxes for their impending move. Majority of the things that filled the shelves of his apartment were sealed up in boxes at hers, in order to start the consolidation process. She was more than happy to move in with him, especially after all they had been through with roommates, breakups, and separate places. He had called her after class, asking her to reconsider whether or not his friend should live with them. At first she reacted negatively. She had built up living with him in her mind for so long that the idea of someone else moving in disappointed her. He was having an internal battle himself. His friend would soon be paying for a studio space he would be using to start their collaborative business. From that expense, his friend would have to sleep on a couch at the studio, since he couldn’t afford his own rent.

He and she sat down writing out a pros, cons, and neutral list. They thought the neutral list may help them have a better understanding of what they could deal with in a roommate. She still wasn’t really excited about the thought of living with his friend. The three of them had a beer and talked the night before the big decision. He and she went back and forth although he put the weight of the decision in her hands.

The next morning, they all three ran errands together, buying raspberry and blueberry bushes for their world-renowned artist professor. The day was sunny and warm, placing her a positive mindset, one that said she could do this for one year. When they were crammed into his car, she broke to his friend the news that he would be moving in with them come May 1st. “You guys are adopting me?!” His friend cried out excitedly. His friend’s fiancé who lived states away, was relieved to hear his man would’t be living on a couch in a studio. He and she knew it would be difficult, but they also knew it would be an experience that they would grow from. It was only for a year.

 

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