Movin' On Up

Since I’m almost positive that everyone who reads this blog also reads Trout’s (and if you don’t, you really should check it out…read the archives until he can update again, you won’t be disappointed), you all know that he moved this past weekend. And since I know that the readers of this blog are very smart people, you probably also guessed that I spent my weekend helping him move.

For the two years that I’ve known Trout, I’ve also known that the reason he came back to the 7200 (a Troutism that sounds so much cooler than L-town) for school was so that he could live and work in the state. It’s also safe to say that for almost as long, I’ve known he’s wanted to live and work in the 5600. So, when Trout was offered a job there, after the celebratory dinner and wine, the unofficial countdown began. When school or work became particularly annoying or unbearable, “only x number of months left” was repeated often. I don’t know how many times we exclaimed, “You’re moving to the 5600!”

This move has been a long time coming, and I couldn’t be happier for him. For two and half years, most of his belongings and anything that resembled a real life has been packed away in a storage unit or dispersed to friends’ houses. He’s lived in shoe box sized rooms, had to share a bathroom with 10 other guys, eaten cafeteria food, and literally lived at his job 24/7; no one deserves this move more than Trout.

This weekend a large group of people packed up his room and emptied his storage space into a moving van, a smaller group drove halfway across the state and then a new group of people unloaded everything into his new apartment. This weekend, glimpses of the Trout I’ve waited two years to see, finally appeared. He has furniture and dishes, cooking utensils, framed pictures and books...boxes and boxes of books. Of course I knew he had all of these things, I even saw some of them when we had to retrieve things from storage, but this weekend they emerged from their boxes and became part of his life again: his queen sized bed (as opposed to the crappy twin he’s been sleeping on for 2 ½ years), his pint glass from Murphy’s Pub, a picture of his Dad holding him as a newborn, and a big blue bunny named Lenny. It’s a Trout I didn’t know, but the more I find out, the better it gets.

After Jenn and Phil dropped me back off at my car in the 7200, I ended up hanging out with Trout’s best friend from high school and his family. Feeling a little mopey (because for some reason, to my frustration, that’s what happens when I have to leave Trout; I don’t want to leave all sad, yet it happens, every time), getting to spend the afternoon with people who’ve known him for such a long time helped me to shift my frame of mind from “poor me” to “I’m so lucky.”

Above all, despite how much I don’t like living 5 hours away from Trout, I feel incredibly fortunate. Not only am I in a wonderful relationship, but Trout is finally where he wants to be.

Congratulations, baby. I can’t say it enough; I’m so happy for you.