hardest thing ever.

Mr. Perfect and I didn't live together before we got married. We actually didn't even live in the same town until we got married. In college, I lived in different apartments with different girls. There was always someone around, someone to watch TV with, someone's clothes to borrow.

There were the not so good roommates. I had one who always had people over. Every single night. They slept in our living room. Usually on the floor. They would leave food out everywhere. Needless to say, I didn't live with her long.

Then there was my roommate that would "disappear". No lie. For days on end she would be gone. We didn't have any classes together so I don't even know if she went to class. She'd show up every now and then and then usually sleep for 3 days straight. Three days in which I had to tiptoe around as to not wake her up. Who sleeps on a Friday night at 6?!?

After college, the little brother and I actually got an apartment together. Living with a boy was pretty low key. Except that he thought he needed to carpet our bathroom floor with his boxers. I did not get that. But he did that when we lived with the parents too, so I was used to it. The Marine (little brother) and I hung out with the same people, worked together, and lived together. Good thing we got along amazingly well. And that our work schedules were opposite, so sometimes we got a break from each other. I loved living with him. There was always something going on, he could cook (yay!), and I could clean. It worked.

Then I got married. I actually cried the day I moved out of my apartment. I remember sobbing to my Mom about how I had to move and "live with a boy!!". I know that I was living with my brother, but it's different.

That first night, I could not sleep. We were in our own house, in our own bed, and he wouldn't quit snoring. I could not figure out how I was going to ever get used to sleeping with that noise. I must have slept on the couch most nights those first couple of months. Then I got used to it. Now I can't sleep without him there, or if I do, it's not a good sleep.

Next thing I noticed about living with my boy was his stuff. It was everywhere. Stuff I couldn't even figure out what it was. I put most of it "away" which usually ended up badly. Apparently he had meant to leave it in the middle of the floor. Gah. I noticed one day that I a bra of mine came out of the dryer with a bunch of white t-shirts and socks. I almost had a meltdown. Didn't he know?!?!?

Boxers still end up on my bathroom floor. Sometimes bras still end up in the dryer. My kitchen counter at times is littered with "stuff". Our coffee table occasionally ends up becoming a gun workshop of sorts. It's a constant work in progress trying to mesh two ways of thinking into one house. He still doesn't load the dishwasher "right". He would probably say I don't. He would be wrong.

Becoming a household of our own was a process, but now we work perfectly. He cooks, I clean. I do the laundry, he wears the clothes. It works. There are still days that I look at something and am baffled as to how it makes sense to him. I will never understand clothes in front of the hamper or leaving the sleep machine on all day. But I wouldn't change him for the world. It might have been the hardest thing ever meshing our two worlds, but it's been ridiculously well worth it.