The new roomie.

So we are currently living together, the boyfriend and myself. Together. In one apartment. All the time. Every day. Yep, that's us. Together.

All sarcasm aside, I think it's getting better everyday. The first week was definitely rocky mainly because I desperately needed order. I can't stand seeing shit in boxes for weeks and so I put a gun to Dominic's head on Saturday as we went through everything, and throwing out most of it.

Why do guys keep the most useless things, like hundreds of business cards of people he doesn't even remember meeting, or one of those foam fingers from a baseball game that he never actually brings to a baseball game? If only there was a secret room I never have to see, we'd put those things in there for him to scatter around the floor so he can roll around in it while eating ice cream sandwiches and watching porn.