Granted, yesterday was a long(-ish) day. I tried again, unsuccessfully, to get my tires ("They are here, ma'am, they just aren't off the truck." "But you emailed me and told me to come!"). I got some less than happy news from a friend about recent test results. B and I had plans to attend two parties last night, so after getting home from tire-gate, what did I do? Start cleaning, naturally.
I broke down most of the spare bedroom and actually boxed up lots of the items that have already been sorted into "give away" and "to the siblings" piles. By the time B got home from his day-long firm golf tournament, I was standing in the pantry in a state of random dress drinking wine and eating ginger snaps. Oh sweet comfort food. Then I took him around and showed him all the things I couldn't do, like make the shelf snap into the bookcase and figure out how to take apart a bed frame. Pretty sure I've gotten myself excused from those adventures!
We sat on the bed for a few minutes and just recharged. One thing I've noticed since being married is that I'm much less likely to go on the offensive with B. I think I now take for granted that he's on my team and that we're facing everything else together. It is so so comforting. I don't have to prove my frustration to him, or stomp around to show I'm not feeling the best. Instead, I can tell him and know that he knows and that he wants to help. I think the methods I used while dating were more defensive and self-protective. This feels more vulnerable, but so much better.
We ended up skipping one party and going on to the second, then getting dinner at our favorite Greek place in town. Afterwards, we headed home where he chatted business with his Dad while I talked shop with my sister about the move.
After we both hung up, I moved on to trying on clothes in hopes of getting rid of some. The black dress Mom bought me the day Daddy died? It's going back. I like it. B likes it. But it's a little black party dress with this little raincloud over its head. So back it goes. I debated about the dress I was wearing the day he died, the one I had to wear while helping Mom make the arrangements because the only alternative were the bridesmaids dresses hanging in my closet at home.
I walked out with it and B said, "You love that dress." Which I do, but I turned to put it back in the closet and just started crying. He came over and said, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I just want you to be happy. If that dress makes you sad when you see it, give it away." Through little hiccups and tears, I cried into his shoulder, "But I feel BAD throwing it away, too." Wise man that he is, B came back with, "You're not throwing it away. Someone else will get it and like it." So out it went.
I think that's one reason that I'm anxious to get this move on the road. Going through my apartment is bringing up so many memories and little notes from Dad (gotta save the lawyer jokes from the newspaper that he sent!), that I'm eager to process what I can while I can, before I just get overwhelmed.
We're moving two weeks from today. Two weeks! I feel like there's so much to do between now and then. So many people to see, goodbyes (for now!) to say, and boxes to pack. For now, B and I are looking forward to a fun weekend of car browsing, going through wedding photos, and celebrating our three-month anniversary. Love you, sweetie!