Sometimes you gotta stop and remember that your not gonna live forever… be young, think smart, stay true and just follow your heart.

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Life lately has been extraordinarily unexciting lately.

Maybe it’s the thing about getting to be in your (dear god) late twenties, but swinging nights of dancing are replaced with cosy cuddles on the couch. The most exciting thing that I’ve done is join a gym. Yep, seriously. 5:30 am woke out sessions have become my new favorite thing–besides nail polish of course. Work is work, and it’s not getting any better. If it weren’t for the people I work with being the most awesome people I’ve ever met, I certainly wouldn’t still be there. And I can feel my days as a retail slave being numbered. There are only so many crazy people you can deal with in your life, before it drives you mad. And after 8 years… it’s time for something new. But until I find that totally awesome place, I can at least be content in the fact I have an awesome discount on nail polish, which in turn gives me happy vibes. And I know at the end of the day, I have the most amazing boyfriend to come home to, for all the couch cuddles a girl could ever ask for.

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Do you remember when we first moved in together? The piano took up the living room. You’d play me boogie woogie… I played you love songs.

As I previously mentioned, Kenton moved in to the house I share with my roommate back in the middle of December, once he finished his school in Moncton. Technically, he had moved all his stuff in way back in October, but because he was commuting, we were still sharing my tiny old bedroom upstairs when he came home on weekends. That room was barely big enough for me, let alone the two of us together. You have no idea how glad I was once he officially moved in, unpacked, and we took over the basement.

 

I’ve never lived with a boy before. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, especially considering I’ve somehow managed to acquire a huge amount of stuff in my twenty-seven years–but somehow we’ve managed to find a balance between our stuff. Sure, he thinks I own too many dresses, and I just can’t understand his obsession with home renovation shows (haha) but that’s what makes us work. I was a little scared, but honestly… nothing has ever felt so perfect.

And with that, I thought I’d share just a peak into our little love nest.

 

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Our bed. It’s a hand-me-down, replacing my old bunk beds. I can’t wait for us to get a new bed–that mattress has seen better days for sure. Once we get our tax refunds, we’re getting a new bed, and a whole new bed spread.
Also check out the awesome wood paneling that surrounds us in our new bedroom. So seventies. We also have a wicked wooden bar just off to the left that hides Kenton’s Man nook.
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My makeshift closet. Basically a whole bunch of rolling racks for my dresses and such. I wish I could say this was all the clothing I owned…. but not even close.
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More evidence of my overwhelming amount of stuff. So many books, and comics, and little nicknacks. Yeah… don’t ask me how all of this fit into that little room of mine…. I couldn’t tell you.
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We live in the basement, so there is no view. I jazzed up the window sill with Batman, and some stuffed toys, which joined the Kempt Rd. sign that Kenton had from his old apartment. He also put up hooks so I can organize my jewelry.

And if you’re scared of the future tonight, we’ll just take it each hour one at a time.

Fall is officially among us.

I’ve written before how fall is by far my favorite season. Fall fashions, Halloween (and my sister and brother in law’s annual Halloween party), and yes even my birthday.

In less than a month I turn 27 which actually freaks me out, more so than any birthday yet so far. There is just something about the idea of being 27. For one, its the same age my mother was when she had me. It feels like such a grown up age–like I should be married by now with a house and a dog and a couple kids. This is especially compounded by the fact my 10 year high school reunion is next year, and while Facebook creeping my high school classmates, I couldn’t help but notice a large chunk of them are married, and having babies and being all grown up. All I can boast is that I’ve finally gotten my beginners, about ten years after the rest of the world.

Don’t get me wrong I’m more than happy with my life, and the way things have ended up. I have the most fabulous family, friends and boyfriend and wouldn’t want life to be any different. My life may not have gone the way I imagined it would at 17 but that’s okay with me. I know 27 is going to hold a lot of exciting things-the boyfriend moving in, for one. So much is changing and I’m ready to embrace whatever the universe has in store for me.

But I could not recall a more perfect fall… because when I looked up into your eyes it didn’t hurt at all.

A couple weeks ago, when the boy and I were fresh into spending time together, he looked at me and asked the most innocently loaded question one can ask: do you ever compare me to your ex-boyfriend?

At the time, the answer was simple–No, not ever. But the more we’ve spent together, and the more smitten I’ve gotten, that question continued to linger on my mind. It’s not that I consciously sit back, and mentally compare every kiss, every conversation, and everything else. But I couldn’t help but wonder if it’s almost impossible not to compare one relationship to another? After all, first loves are just that–the first. So maybe that means, regardless of the fact that you’ve moved on, you can’t help but find yourself remembering what falling in love felt like the first time.

When it comes to the boy, and this new whatever-it-is-we’re-doing, I don’t find myself comparing him to my first love. To me, it’s completely different, and it feels like everything up to now never even existed. And maybe that has something to do with the fact I’m no longer 17. Dating at 25 is a much different experience, once that still shocks me sometimes. First off, sleepovers? Especially nice when it doesn’t involve some complex lie about where you were the night before. But it’s more than that? There is no need to prove anything to anyone. No need to define exactly what is going on, or flaunting my relationship around to somehow prove something.

But then again, maybe that is comparing. Saying something isn’t like something is still a comparison, is it not? And that’s what has this question lingering, leaving me wondering. Never the less, I refuse to fret on the details, instead keen to just enjoy the little moments, enjoying the feeling of falling.