Cohabitation is Serious Business.

My girlfriend Allison moved in yesterday, and the house is still in a state not unlike that of a series of paths through piles. We are certainly making progress, no doubt, but it is slow and effort-filled. Here is a photoset of Day 2; I will discuss some of those photos now, as they touch on something I’d heard repeatedly in the past week or two. First, however, I’d like to make it known that I have too many books, and I have no intention of diminishing my collection anytime soon.

I pay the bills as a barista. That is, to say, I make espresso beverages for the bulk of my wages; tips are the reason this sort of job can get you by in this day and age. As a result, I’m fairly chatty at work. Some feigned, just like any service worker, but in that, you’re always going to develop a worker/customer relationship over time with regulars. Given the location of my particular coffeeshop, a good 80% or so of my clientele are regulars. In our daily encounters, we chit-chat a lot and over time get to know a lot about each other, a lot more than you would expect from someone who gives you coffee every day. I would wager I’m somewhere between your local grocer and your hairdresser in terms of how friendly I am with my average customers.

Moral is, a very frequent question is, of course, “what’s new?” or the end-of-week-specific “anything big plans for the weekend?” Given the frequency and ease with which my customers ask questions such as these in the smalltalk minutes while they wait for their cafe latte (two shots, half-caf, skim), a fairly decent percentage of them are aware that my girlfriend was moving (has just moved?) in. This to me is nothing but awesome; she’s here more often than not anyway, we gain half an apartment, privacy, and she no longer needs to go “home” for anything – it works out.

It seemed like a no-brainer to me as far as the advantages, but upon illuminating my caffeine-anticipating clients of my plans, I was astounded by just how many, male and female, expressed a certain level of pity mixed with mockery, accompanied with an almost pat-on-the-back and a pre-mourning of my soon-to-be-lost freedom. I’d thought that, at best, they misunderstood how awesome my relationship was and, at worst, they were just doing it wrong. They talked of how cohabitation was full of unexpected compromises, and how I’d learn soon enough.

I admit it, I see now what they meant.

While combining the dvd collection into one super-collection, I found myself, heart in hand, sullenly adding The Big Lebowski into my previously untainted collection.

That’s right; I hated that movie.

Not so much the movie itself – while I found that tedious and unworthy of my time, had I watched it of my own accord, without a single word of praise heard beforehand, I would have most likely shrugged it off as another catchphrase-riddled movie that didn’t impress me and went about my day. (Full Disclosure: I’ve since learned that, in general, I dislike character movies, with very few exceptions). But this movie – everyone and their father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former roommate thinks this movie is The King Shit, and this dude, as they say, does not abide. (See? I get it, I just don’t think it’s worth all that hoo-la. Sue me).

I’ve debated this so many times my arguments have practically entered the collective unconsciousness of my friends, and new friends absorb my opinions through just being around me and other friends with whom I’ve debated the pros and cons of this movie; it’s certainly obtained a status of such that newer, uninitiated friends will, upon the mention of this film, be shushed by older, more experienced friends of mine and told to “not bring it up”. Yes, I’m That Guy. C’mon, try me.

Either way, there I was, combining movies – some good, some terrible, some just ok – an act of goodwill, of kinship, of trust, respect, and love. And there it was. Laughing at me. Daring me to choose between my beliefs and my relationship. Taunting me, saying “Look! People are going to come over, see me on the shelf, and think you approve! Hahahahahahaha!” It took all my nerve not to “accidentally” set it on fire right then and there. I still have no idea how I resisted; maybe I’m just getting more reasonable in my old age.

So I put it up. I put it on the shelf, right there between the original Battlestar Galactica movie and Big Trouble In Little China. The former almost deserved it, but the latter? Sorry, Kurt. I tried. There’s only so much we can do, and there are many, many meanings to the phrase “Love conquers all”. I think I see what they meant now about compromise, and I think I can live with it.

Old Laptops.

These days, everyone seems to have one lying around – an old gen laptop, sitting around, gathering dust in a closet somewhere.  Call it a byproduct of the mid to late 90s, a golden era of economic success and personal fiscal irresponsibility, combined with technological advances making portable computers not only easily accessible, but damn near necessary for any student or white collar worker.

Whatever the cause, everyone seems to have ’em. On top of that, no one seems to want to get rid of them. They want it to go to some use, but they themselves have no purpose for their old devices.

Enter me.

I’ll always take old machines. Always. Sometimes they sit around in my closet, just like yours. Sometimes, though, I’ll throw in some ram, maybe a wireless card (if, y’know, one of the several I have will decide to work) and BAM – laptop in the living room, perfect for doing something like, say, catching up on resto druid mechanics while watching the guy from Man vs Wild drink his own piss in the Australian Outback.

This laptop, for instance, was given to me by my friend Amber. She and her husband had a new laptop and didn’t need this one anymore. It’s an old Dell Latitude; severely outdated. The battery was fried, the ram needed upgrading, it has one USB1 slot, it occasionally makes odd beeps, and the trackpad would be better if it were removed altogether. Even still, it works, and allows the posting of wordpress pages while watching Jet Li’s The One.

I love this crazy technological age in which we live.