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Moving In

by Elliot Steingart

January 29, 2014 | 9:22 am

Bachelor-less pad

My girlfriend is moving in with me. The apartment is changing very fast. She put a crucifix next to the bowl of oranges. It's new home is below the silverwear underneath a pizza delivery menu.

She decorated the refrigerator with Spam magnets. I don't want Spam anywhere near the refrigerator.

On the other side she placed magnets of an Asian baby named Isla--her friend Candace’s niece. We have more pictures of Isla than pictures of us. I've never even met this baby which is why her likeness is being replaced by a Pep Boys Oil Change coupon.

In place of the bathroom mirror is a framed poster of Double Indemnity, a noir film about a redhead who hires a hitman to kill her husband. I'm now putting down the toilet seat.

She is using an obscene amount of toilet paper. We go through a 12 pack of toilet paper faster than a 12 pack of beer. At this rate, I'll need to downgrade to Scott Toilet Tissue.

She asked me to help her with her budget. We went through each line item and stopped when I asked how much she spends a month on alcohol.

“$400 a month?”

She is in charge of taking out the recycling. No wonder she is in the red. She spends $35 a month on martini olives.

I asked her if I should grow a moustache and she said, “I’m trying to read my kindle”

“What are you reading?” I asked. “'It' by Steven King.” She replied

“Sorry for interrupting to you. I'll let you get back to reading about a killer clown.”

The next day she brought over a brand new set of steak knives. She can butcher me 12 different ways. According to the French calendar she hung on the refrigerator I'm going to die in Janvier.

I didn't help my cause when I yelled at her for accidentally breaking a wine glass.

“What are you DOING?”I barked.

I'm not proud of my reaction. I should have take a deep breath, and counted to three to calm down. If we get married I don’t want to step on the wine glass and hear her scream “What  are you DOING?”

She is considerate. Out of respect to the neighbors, she closed the screen door before she yelled at me.

She politely told me I need to be more social during the week. “I want nights alone here too.”

“Just because you are moving in, doesn’t mean you can kick me out.” I remdinded her.

She has been working late this week. When she walks through the door, I try to make her feel at home. “Oh, did you want to spend the night?”

It's a fun way to pretend she hasn't lived here for the last seven months. Now we make it official by telling our parents, and most importantly, the mailman.

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