It is supposed to happen. We’ve decided we are moving into his apartment, which is really nice. It is on the top floor and if I stand in certain places, I can see the ocean. At night, when Venice is quiet, I can hear the waves crashing. In the morning, the sun shines in and makes me happy.
What doesn’t make me happy is the extremely poorly designed kitchen with an electric stove. WHO THE FUCK DESIGNED THAT??? It’s like a midget (little person, whatever) and a giant lived there. One counter is the height of a table (in other words, the worst place to chop vegetables or prep food). The other usable counter space at the proper height is about one foot by one foot. Sweet. The cupboards? Oh holy hell. My 6’3” fiancé can reach them just fine, but me? Plates, glasses and pans (don’t ask) are the height ABOVE the hood on the stove. You know, the spot you put things you never use because you can’t reach them? Yes, that is the height of the REGULAR cupboards in this apartment. I’ve got a lot of work to do to make this place work.
My small, less expensive apartment is dark and noisy. It’s not laid out well for both of us, but hell if my kitchen doesn’t rock. At first, I thought the mini-galley style kitchen sucked, but I’ve gotten used to everything being in my reach. Like cabinets at a normal, reachable height and lots of storage. I love the tile counters that I can plunk steaming hot pans on. I love the apartment-size GAS stove, which cooks my food perfectly (I made rice soup by accident on the damn electric one). My kitchen and bathroom are really the only saving graces of my apartment (and my cool neighbors and the pool outside of my window and the awesome location to tasty restaurants when I don’t want to cook).
Despite my love of cooking, I think it’s also giving up my own space. My independence. In some ways, my control. It’s my apartment. I want it clean so keep it clean so it is clean. So far, that’s not exactly how it’s working in the new place. Kinks. Somehow we’re going to have to come to a middle ground of when a kitchen gets cleaned (me: right after eating or at least once a day. him: when he feels like it be it 2 or 3 days or even a week later).
Most modern couples face these dilemmas before they get engaged. And god bless them. There is so much to think about right now, the last thing I feel like fighting over is whether or not the dishes are washed. But then again, most modern couples don’t cook.