This is your brain...without internet

Why would I ever be without the internet, I live with a network engineer, you ask? Well, that question answers itself.

I live with a network engineer.

My brother is a Mechanical Engineer. We lived together for 16 years. I am wise to their dirty nerdy little tricks.

“Fixing” “Upgrading” “Installing” are all words for BREAKING.

On day 2 of cohabitation, boyfriendface decides he is going to install some fancypants firewall shenanigans. I mean, whatever, what to do I care? Except that this allows him to completely invade my privacy and look at everything I am doing on the internet. What do I have to hide? My deepest darkest internet secrets involve hours on pinterest and shopping for things he has forbid me to buy because I am a compulsive shopper. It is a disease. Really. I think. But I digress.

His “upgrade” to fancypants life-invading firewall broke the internet in our house for 4 hours.

Four. hours.

This is how I usually feel about boyfriend:

 
Annddd after 4 hours of no internet:

Have I mentioned that EVERY SINGLE item of entertainment value, including the cable TV, is run through the INTERNET?!?!  As if turning on the TV was not complicated enough. But that is a whole other post.

Normally, I could live under such conditions, pretending to be pioneer from the olden days; however, all of my belongings are in boxes in the living room. Cruel and unusual punishment. I mean really, if he wanted me to go to the grocery store, all he had to do was ask.

In the end, I was very productive. Unpacked some things, organized some things, and like I said, went grocery shopping and made dinner. For hours I cursed him for breaking my sole source of entertainment but at the end of the night, I told him that perhaps he should consider “fixing” the internet more often.

I super hate when he is right. Especially without trying.

Day 1: Where is my underwear?

After 2 strenuous days half-as*ing moving, the majority of my things have arrived in the new house. And by that I mean, they have been stacked in the dining room.
 
You see, while I was avoiding grown up life and still pretending I actually lived in the B*tch Cave, boyfriendface needed someone to pull some weight around the house. ie:pay rent. While I was out, one of boyfriendface’s little brother’s, twinface#1, lived in the house and is going to school in the area. We basically have become one big happy family of concert-going, learning our drinking limits far past the age where it is acceptable to fall down the stairs from intoxication, me babying twinface#1 and overall spoiling of the entire "Face" family. Twinface#1 does not move into his new digs until August 1, thus, cohabitation involves a +1. That would be me.
 
Since it would be incredibly wrong of me to just throw all of his stuff outside, Twinface#1 still occupies B*tchcave 2.0 (my office/guestroom). Thus, all of my stuff occupies the dining room. Mattress, clothes, 8 boxes of shoes, and countless boxes of things I say have “sentimental value” and boyfriendface says are crap.
 
After my first morning of for real living in the new house, I have concluded that getting ready for work with an extra pair of hands to zip your dresses and skirts is MUCH easier, instead of doing my rendition of the hokey pokey mixed with a seizure in attempts to look professional.

I also wonder how long it will be before I stop repacking my belongings after I use them...
 

I just want to paint something purple! (the backstory)

So boyfriendface and I have been together for over 5 years and thought it to be prime time for us to start our lives together… for real this time. (Take 1 involved 3 male roommates, a Tasmanian devil, a fly invasion, parties, and overall “we are so not ready for this”-ness.)

Take 2. Same bat neighborhood. Same bat street. Different block.

 A year ago I (we) picked out this house for boyfriend to live in until the lease on The B*tch Cave (my apartment) was up. A beautiful, quaint, row house in the city built in 1922.  We have spent the last year having meaningful conversations about our future life together. The following is an example of said conversations:

1.      I want a fairy garden!

2.      Can I paint the living room purple?

3.      Move the rug, I fear for your life.

4.      The basement has bad juju.

5.      A mouse just ran across my foot!!!

6.      Can I paint the back door purple?

7.      Where am I supposed to put all of my shoes?!

8.      Did you remove the ghosts?

9.      Can I paint our bedroom purple?

10.  You are on house stuff buying restriction!

11.  Clean up all of the boxes!

12.  Why won’t you let me paint anything purple?!?!

Clearly, such conversations have brought us closer and added depth to our relationship, in addition to giving all of my friends and family several reasons to take pity on boyfriendface. It is possible I have been removed from the family will and he has been placed in my stead.
In the past few months we have adventured into yard work, stupid home improvement projects, and avoiding all started projects together.

In conclusion, we will be hiring a house cleaner and landscaper.