The Right Thing To Do
One might think that starting a new job in a new town and having the prospect of having a new baby with a new boyfriend in the matter of one month would be alot to handle. One MIGHT think that… if they were not me. My biggest problem du jour was trying to hide the fact that I was newly pregnant from my new boss while puking my ever-loving guts out! Who on earth would ever get pregnant on purpose knowing that this was a side effect… and not just a possible side effect.. a VERY, VERY likely side effect. Lets just say that after a large meal of baby carrots (you know the ones that come peeled and all wet and delicious looking in the teeny tiny plastic bag) followed by a very long night of continuous vomiting, I was more than ready to throw in the towel… Or at least never eat baby carrots again.
Paul saw how I struggled to keep my solids and fluids down, was beside me as I awoke in the middle of the night to eat saltines and drink a can of ginger ale so I could make it through until the morning. So he did the only thing in his capacity to do (other than hold back my hair), he asked me to move in with him. I know, I know…. how romantic!! So I told my landlord of two whole months that I would be moving out at the end of March (since I had to give her at least one month’s notice). And I set to work packing all the things that I had JUST spent countless hours arranging and rearranging until my place had that nice, almost homey sort of feel to it.
Now, it is important to note that Paul was a bachelor who had lived on his own for 8 or so years. A bachelor who, when I went to visit him the first time, had no walking space on his bedroom floor because of all the “clean” clothes piled there. He lived in an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with a leaky roof and bright blue siding on the upper part of the house. The house had been his since the family of Mormons with five children had vacated it and he had never had to share it with anyone except a handful of mice and october beetles. Needless to say, I called my mom and my little sister and asked them to come and do a thorough cleaning before I would even consider moving my stuff in with his.
Moving in and packing was one thing… Paul and I decided to get a puppy. I had ALWAYS wanted a puppy… and with all the new things in my life what better time than right now?? Probably none!! So we drove a few hours and got ourselves a little Border Collie/Blue Heeler cross named Gertie (on account of she puked all over Paul on the way home in the truck). So now we had to clean and pack and move with this teeny tiny little creature under foot….. I had no idea the foreshadowing to my life that dog was providing.
The big move came and went without a hitch. Paul brought his stock trailer (which neither of us thought to empty out) into town. We ripped up garbage bags to lay over the shit on the floor in there and loaded the trailer up with all the glorious stuff I had to offer to our house of love. And as we were loading up the trailer and Paul was looking more and more worried at the amount of boxes I had, I remembered something my sister E told me once, “whenever you move, you should act like you are moving in with a boy and get rid of all the things you are too embarrassed to let him know that you have”. And at that moment, as Paul handled a duct taped shoe box that had the words “Ex Box – Do Not Open” splayed upon it…. I wished I had taken her advice!