I bought my flat “The Towers” 10 years ago. When I first moved in, a friend moved in with me and took up the spare room.
Things really did not work out. She could not fathom my innate obsession with cleanliness and I found her ability to make mess 30 seconds after arriving home irritating. She met someone pretty quickly and moved out after only 3 months. I gladly helped her pack her bags and waved her off pleased that she had met someone and happy that we still remained friends (as we do to this day).
Then for 10 years I lived there all alone and perfectly content. I never felt lonely and I liked having my place perfectly organised to suit my needs. Boyfriends came and went. One actually moved in for 6 weeks whilst he bought a house, but I never seriously contemplated giving up my place.
Long time readers will know I moved in with The Chap over Christmas. If I am honest I packed my bags and rented my flat with a lot of trepidation. I knew TC was one for me, but I was concerned. I have left an immaculate flat, and moved into a bombsite with a kitchen that has been a "Work In Progress" since December and a bathroom in which you cannot use the bath (it leaks). All the internal doors need changing as they do not close and the carpet needs replacing everywhere (think tangerine / poop brown dreadlocked shagpile).
I expected to be stressed by the move, and I have been. I am getting used to having to cook everyday proper food for TC (no more evenings for me on the sofa with a bowl of cereal or a couple of pieces of toast and some sandwich spread).
After 3 months of moving in, we have found a rhythm and everything is going well. We are both happy.
I have been away on average one weekend per month since I moved in. To visit my sister and friends.
This week, roles have been reversed TC has flown out to Sweden with work for a few days. He left late on Monday evening and is due back late on Thursday evening, then Friday is his birthday.
I got home yesterday and sat down. The Cats came and said hello. I had dinner, the sort of food he would hate and then did a pile of washing, and cleaned the kitchen. I watched tv in command of the remote control.
I lay in the middle of the bed and wrapped myself in the duvet. I left the door open to the bathroom whilst I used it, and just dumped the rubbish outside the back door until this evening when it will be lighter to properly dispose of it.
And the whole time, every minute of my evening I missed My Chap, a lot.