I have an announcement to make. Normally I don't like to post such personal things on the site, but in this case, I feel it's appropriate to make an exception. As everyone knows by now, Greg and I are planning on moving in together this autumn. What everyone *doesn't* know is that there are equally astronomical things taking place behind the scenes in the meantime. I don't want anyone to feel left out. Part of me feels a bit guilty for not telling you all personally, for not making some bigger arrangements and inviting everyone to come and witness. Know that I love you and I truly hope no one is upset by this. But as you are all aware, I am a rather independent person and there are some things in life - big moments like this one - that I would rather keep (mostly) to myself and the person most impacted by such a choice. So here goes...
Let it be said, first of all, that no matter what anyone else thinks, I believe in a certain flow in a relationship, that things progress or unfold one step at a time, all in a direct line pointing at one big goal, and that that goal is to spend a committed lifetime together. As part of this process, there are things that each partner has to bring to the table of his or her own accord. Each person has the responsibility of making themselves the least fucked up as possible before moving all their baggage and psychoses into someone else's life. That said...here's the news.
Today, after a year and a half of living alone, I bought not one, but two ice trays. Now, many of you may be shocked by this. You are thinking to yourselves, "But she doesn't drink soda that much! Tap water is fine! She's gone a year and a half without ice cubes - why start now?"
I know this all comes as a bit of a shock. I just want you all to know that I am going through some changes in my life. Big changes. And there comes a time in a person's adulthood when you just simply have to break down and buy the damn ice cube trays. True, true: most people, when they move out of an apartment, leave the silly little plastic stuff in the freezer. Too big of a pain to move ice cubes. Besides, ice cubes can grow anywhere. Why move them? But for some reason, the person who lived in *this* particular apartment decided to take his ice cube trays with him. Perhaps they were sentimental. Perhaps he didn't have any, either. Perhaps there has been a whole line of tenants, an ancestral renters' history of people who, as long as this apartment has existed, have NOT HAD ICE CUBES. Who knows?
I'm here to say that I, Stephanie Thorvalson, am putting an end to this madness. It's time that I grew up already and started paying closer attention to the smaller details of mid-twenties life. In preparation for a lifetime of happiness, it is necessary, I feel, to plan as much as possible for the other person's well being. Greg, for example, has worked very hard to establish openness and trust in this relationship, providing everything from the occasional thoughtful bouquet to quiet, private little messages on my voice mail, telling me how wonderful this wonderful-est man in the world thinks *I* am. He has also helped, when necessary or just when he felt like it, to provide food, shelter, and entertainment. What, you are asking yourselves, have I brought to this relationship? Well, I'll tell you.
Ice cube trays. Two brand spankin' new, shiny, white, plastic ice cube trays. Or, as the label clearly reads, dos "bandejas para el hielo".
And one truly amazing, spectacular, wonderful, brilliant, beautiful child.
And some goofy stories.
Oh. And a lot of books. :)