Holding down the fort.

Last night we finally had our Housewarming shindig and it was, if I do say so myself, an awesome party. We ended up inviting our entire company because, hey, how awkward is it to invite half? Also, we really like who we work with. Arc90 made up 80% of our guests and was, perhaps, a little overwhelming to our non-work friends, but everyone seemed to get along great and enjoy the place and Oscar's company.

Yesterday afternoon I had a bit of a meltdown about the whole 36-people-RSVP'd-YES thing. Did we have enough food?! Beer? Space? Would some kind of adult R.A. come and tell us we were being too loud? And should I have shoveled our deck? Luckily, we had plenty of space and, though the noise was higher than normal, everything was quiet by 12:30, when our last guests left. Also, after buying out Trader Joe's appetizers, I conveniently forgot to cook and serve any of them until about 10pm, when people were suddenly hungry. Thus insued a somewhat frantic cooking of the appetizers and everyone was placated. Success!

My mid-afternoon breakdown was also related to how terrible it is to spend your whole weekend cleaning and cooking, so Chris and I had a talk about how I can find more time for myself that does not involve apartment maintenance. One potential solution is Office Hours, which means that I will spend 2 hours per week alone and writing for the 5.7 billion projects that I'm inspired to pursue and yet never actually happen. Priority Uno for that is to buy myself a desk chair. I will report back if Office Hours is useful. If not, more brainstorming to come!

As I type this, Chris is out at the movies, leaving me with some rare alone time at home. I think this is one of the most significant changes when you move in with someone, the challenge to do things alone and just how you want them. Even if you live with an easygoing and awesome significant other (like I do), something causes me to "take care" of things while he's home. Let me just "take care" of these dishes, I think, or "take care" of this litter box or make a home cooked meal for tonight or a plethora of other tasks that don't, frankly, need to be taken care of that minute. I bustle around the place straightening up and moving things around out of some weird guilt or responsibility towards our living togetherness. It's weird, I know. But I have never been one that relaxes easily and that might have something to do with the fact that my Dad used to wake us up with his trumpet early on the weekends to get up and do chores. Ah, the German heritage. Guilt and hard labor are a twisted and messy mix within our DNA.

Anyone have advice about how to plan (or NOT plan) your weekends? How do you make sure you get the quiet and relaxing time you need? And, most importantly, how often do tubs and toilets really need to be scrubbed?

1 comment:

Steve said...

My last few weekends have been some of the best I've had in a long, long time. In part because I'm in a new city and still enjoying the novelty of every aspect of this strange place (finding a barber, good pizza joint, coffee shop, etc.). I'm free to try new things (I was the biggest star at Grace Lutheran Church this morning) all while avoiding routine because, well, I'm the 'new' guy.

Think of your new neighborhood as an excuse to be the out-of-towner. Check out a coffee shop, book store or park that you've never been to. Walk home one Saturday but instead of going inside, keep walking and explore what's down the street.

NYC is one goliath of a city. You've got a lot of space to explore.