I'm a hypocrite with a bum leg

Perhaps it was God's wrath for my decision to move in with my boyfriend before marriage. Perhaps it was just just my natural lack of coordination. But as I lay flat on my back in the street in front of my house Sunday, crying out in pain because I had badly twisted my ankle, I thought, oh shit. It's a sign.

I was supposed to move in with a girl out in Cottondale, about 15 minutes away by interstate, until August, when Mr. Goatee and I had planned on getting a house together. But it was COTTONDALE, which to me seemed so far away. And I didn't really know her and wasn't sure our dogs would get along, and just not feeling good about it all together. So, my landlord called me late Saturday afternoon and asked if there was any way I might be able to get out of the house immediately, because he had found some tenants to rent the house, but they needed to move in quickly. At first I said no, but then I agreed. I need the $700 from December's rent.

Then, Mr. Goatee and I started talking about finances and things we'd like to afford in the future. And we won't be able to, unless.... we moved in together. At first it wasn't an option. I always looked down on people who lived together before marriage. I always imagined myself moving into a house with a guy soon after we got married... not before we even got engaged. I guess a part of me still feels like I'm doing things backwards or I'm a social outcast, at least in this little southern town. But, after thinking about it more and talking it over with both our parents, Mr. Goatee and I decided to take the plunge.

I guess I haven't really thought about what a major step this is yet. His apartment still feels likehis apartment, except for the fact that his extra bedroom is filled with my bed and my stuff and the place is a little more decorated now. Not that it was badly decorated before, because it wasn't. Thank goodness his mom helped pick out his furnishings and they are all in the same color scheme as my own.

But anyways, while he and I were moving my things Sunday, I missed the curb and twisted my ankle, fell to the ground in shear agony. A friend of mine joked that it was God getting back at our decision. Who knows. I went to the ER, got it x-rayed, and while I was in there for 3 hours, several friends of mine from grad school and work came out in droves to get all my furniture moved and into storage. I couldn't have done it without them and it just amazes me that they did so much. I'm so grateful to them.

And now, I'm hobbling around our living room (geeze, that sounds so wierd) trying to unpack boxes and finish the decorating before my mom gets here to help me clean. Yes, I still feel a little wierd about everything, but I'm sure that I'll get over that with time. Ok, so I'm a hypocrite with a bum leg. So deal with it. (I am.)