Sunday, 8 March 2009

The Art of Compromise (Part 2)

We're now less than a week away from the big move in day and tensions are mounting. Well. They're not really, what I should probably say is that I'm getting more excitable, nervous, hyper and scared as times rushes past me.

We're on to now getting everything in for the new flat (my lists have come in very handy thank you very much) and this has involved us going through everything we already have and deciding what is coming with us and what is getting chucked out/taken to the charity shop.

I feel this is the first test of my compromising skills. We've been quite lucky in that we don't have much furniture so there's no doubling up on this which takes one possible source of conflict away. The boyfriend does have a lot of kitchen stuff from when he previously lived away so we spent the other night going through that.

Now whilst I'm all for not buying stuff that's not necessary and making do for the moment but neither do I want to take a pair of salt and pepper mills that have been laid in a garage for over a year and which have rusted over and looked horrific.

"These'll be fine once I've gven them a wash," he says.

I made a non-commital noise whilst I ran through a mental checklist of all the shops I've been in recently that sold salt and pepper mills.

Luckily I was saved by the intervention of his sister who, upon watching him trying to scrape year old salt out with a knife proclaimed. "My god! Please, please throw them away and I'll buy you a salt and pepper mill as a moving in present."

Phew. Saved. Sigh of relief.

There were further problems to come however.

When the boyfriend lived away from home before, he lived with a girlfriend. Hence, everything is stuff that they bought together. Now it's not that I have an aversion to anything his ex-girlfriend has touched - I just don't particularly want stuff in our place that's going to remind him of her.

Also I don't share the same Winnie the Pooh obsession she appeared to have.


A line had to be drawn somewhere so I said in my nicest, bestest, politest voice in the nicest, bestest, politest way, "I'm not having any of her crap in my flat."

Being the lovely boy he is he understood and coming to a charity shop near you soon will be every single mug, glass and place produced by the Disney franchise.

I fear he's not going to be as understanding when I takeon my next battle of the compromises - his 60 million crap DVDs which are not all coming with us....

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