Rules for Cohabitation

Good news! Penn and I got approved for the condo! We sign the lease as soon as it is e-mailed to us and Penn moves in on Saturday. I can't wait to start moving our stuff in and decorating and getting settled (well, I'll be decorating; I'm pretty sure Penn couldn't possibly care less about what anything in our apartment looks like as long as it's functional). I'm not so much looking forward to the transition of the next couple of months. I have a feeling that until I get fully settled into the new place it's going to feel like I'm living in two places at once, and that's going to be hard for me because you know how I like routine and knowing where everything is. The fact that something I need could potentially be not just in the wrong room but in the wrong apartment half an hour away is, um, stressful. To be honest, that's partially why even with my crazy school and travel schedule during the month of November I'm still gunning to be out of my current apartment before I go to Hometown at Christmas break and preferably by the end of Thanksgiving weekend: I'm just really eager to have everything organized in one place. Plus you know how I am. Once I make a decision to do something, I want to plan it and then do it immediately.

Penn and I had a lot of funny conversations this weekend about how we're going to manage our life habits to coexist in the same place non-stop. He had me dying laughing when he told me that by living with me he will now have a major increase in the amount of rules in his life. He was like, "Right now I live by one rule, just one: no other women. That's fine. I'm great with that rule. But now I have all of these NEW RULES to follow!" He keeps joking that I'm going to have to make him a scroll of rules he's going to have to follow to live with me. So, for the record, here are the so-called "rules" that I am going to impose:

1) Put clean clothes on hangers and in drawers. (It is important to note that I didn't say, "Do laundry," or "Fold your own clothes" because I'm planning to do those things myself! I do my own laundry once a week anyway so I don't care about adding his laundry to mine. It's not like adding one other person's clothes makes the job that much bigger. The only rule is that he has to actually use the closet and the dresser to store the things I wash.)
2) Put dishes in the dishwasher as opposed to leaving them in the sink.
3) Don't leave piles of random papers on all the flat surfaces in the house. Stick them in the desk drawer where I don't have to look at them (Note here that I didn't say "Organize your scraps of paper," because I honestly don't care if he wants to stuff a desk full of receipts and Christmas cards from 2006 as long as I don't have to see it when I look around the room.)

See?! Easiest rules EVER! But he thinks we need to compromise. In exchange for me forcing him to use hangers for the rest of his natural life (that's the actual phrase he used, "the rest of my natural life," and then I think he groaned and said, "Fifty years!"), he wants me to try out his method for a month. Which sounds fine, in theory, except would you like to know what his method is? His method is you wash the clothes, bring them upstairs in the laundry basket, and drop them on the bedroom floor. In a pile. A gigantic Clothes Mountain. Maybe if you are really feeling ambitious you pick out the pairs of socks and ball them up so that you don't have to dig through the pile to find matching socks in the morning, but that's assuming you care about having matching socks. Oh, and your nice clothes that can't be too wrinkly for work get thrown on the clothes rack in the corner.
Just so you know, I consider it a major accomplishment that I have already been coexisting with the Clothes Mountain at his apartment for seven months. And I realize that healthy relationships are all about minor compromise but there is no way I could ever live with my own personal Clothes Mountain for even a week without going insane. I have proven that I can live with his clothes in a big pile on the floor without getting too twitchy, but the idea of my clothes in a giant pile is just...no. Luckily, everyone he has polled so far--his friends, mind you--agree that in general life should move towards and not away from civilization. Plus we realized that Penn actually has made a few rules for me to follow*, too, so I think I have now managed to get out of the Clothes Mountain experiment. One of Penn's friends pointed out that while I am correct in thinking that I shouldn't have to try out the Clothes Mountain "method", this means that I will never experience the joy of grabbing the nearest clean shirt off the floor and putting it on. But you know what? I am pretty sure that is an experience I can live without. Because I have been alive for almost 26 years and do you know how many times I have gotten up in the morning and grabbed an outfit off the bedroom floor? Exactly zero.

*Rules Penn has imposed:
1) No pets in the bed when we're both in it (I can cuddle with them when I'm in bed by myself, but he's such a light sleeper he can't handle them in bed shifting around at night. Plus even I have to admit nothing kills a sexy moment like the cat leaping up onto the bed and shoving himself in between you like, "Hey guys! Oh, it kind of looks like you're licking each other! I'm great at this game, I have a sandpaper tongue! Check it out!")
2) I let him have the TV remote pretty much all the time, especially on Football Sundays. (This is because 99% of the time I really don't care what is on the TV because I'm too busy reading, but I think if I can pass off, "You are in charge of the TV" as one of his rules for me then that aids my whole, "Look, we're both making compromises, I don't have to try the Clothes Mountain!" argument. Ha.)