illusionofjoy | Wherein joi_division and I moved in together...

Despite his flaws, I suppose that, in a way, I should actually thank DJ Imperium. When I first moved to Pittsburgh over two years ago, I was a sad club-goer with few inexpensive options when it came to getting home from the club after the night ended. Imperium was willing to give me a ride home all of three times before he decided that there was "a curse upon [my] frizzy head" and declared that never again would he drive me home, regardless of whether or not I was willing to pay for gas. In his world, I was somehow to blame for the fact that I had yet to learn every alternate route to my apartment and furthermore, I must have been the cause of the vehicular pile-up which blocked off the routes I did know. What could I say? I was more assuredly hexed.

Upon hearing about what had happened, another DJ at the club who had recently discovered my journal took up my cause and offered me rides home whenever I needed them. Soon, I only found myself in the club when this particular DJ was in the booth. In the rides out to my apartment, we struck up a friendship and eventually a relationship would flower from my desire to continue a conversation somewhere other than the car with the misinterpreted question "would you like to come inside?" The rest, as they say, is history. Had DJ Imperium never had his little snit over forces outside of my control, Joi and I would probably not have gotten together and we certainly wouldn't be living in the same apartment now.

It was on Friday that this whole process of finally moving in together was set in motion. A week earlier, I had made reservations with U-Haul, while Joi had hired a moving company. All last week, we both frantically tried to pack our lives into boxes in order to vacate our separate domiciles in the least messy way we could. Things don't always go as planned.

The problems began with U-Haul. The company is supposed to call to confirm the reservation the day before the equipment is to be picked up. I had reserved a truck for Saturday morning and I received the expected confirmation call via my voice mail on Friday. I dialled the number they provided to confirm my reservation and found myself on hold for a cumulative time of two hours. This was not acceptable.

After killing the battery on my cell phone trying to get in touch with the company, I decided to drive to one of the many pick-up centres in the area in an attempt to square the situation with an actual human being. At the centre, I discovered a frazzled woman fielding phone calls from frustrated U-Haul customers. Going above and beyond the call of duty, she managed to get me a truck for Sunday evening. When I picked it up, I tipped her in wine coolers for her efforts, which she greatly appreciated (and needed at that point).

With my U-Haul rental pushed back over 24 hours, this move was already not going as planned. Joi was having her own troubles, as she faced the uphill challenge of packing eight years of habitation into boxes before the movers showed up Saturday afternoon. She was still packing early Saturday morning. I think I went out and bought her breakfast, so she wouldn't have to fix anything.

Joi is owned by a cat. Eventually, I too, will rejoin the ranks of those owned by cats. Now is just not the right time. Joi's cat is a tricky orange little beast who likes to get himself into a great deal of trouble. With the movers coming, it was decided that it would be best to take the cat over to our new apartment and lock him in the bathroom there to keep him out of the way, rather than trying to isolate him at Joi's old apartment. I drove the cat over with his food and water bowls and litter box. Suffice it to say that he does not like car rides.

By the time I got the cat carrier into the new place, he was yowling so much, that I let him free out of pity. I figured that he could wander around the empty space without getting into too much trouble as I set his stuff up for the duration of the move. I opened the carrier door and he slinked out, heading for the kitchen. It didn't take long for him to discover that there was a hole in the corner baseboard of the cabinets, just large enough for a cat to crawl into. He began to wriggle his way in, and had poked his head into the other side when I grabbed his hind legs and ushered a hasty reverse from him. I locked him in what would be Joi's bedroom as I set up his food, water and litter in the bathroom, where he was then moved.

Little did I know that the door to the bathroom didn't latch properly. When the movers arrived, the move was delayed as we searched for a cat that was not in the bathroom when we returned. He had crawled under the kitchen cabinets when the bathroom door had popped open! Myself, Joi and her mother who was along to help all went on "cat guarding" duty to make sure he didn't bolt out the front door. Curious, he eventually crawled out of his hiding place, where he was caught and moved to the bathroom. Given the malfunctioning door latch, we then traded duties in guarding the bathroom door.

With Joi's stuff moved into the new place, I returned to my old apartment to try and finish packing before Sunday evening. With the exception of a few odds and ends, everything was ready to be loaded into the truck when I picked it up on Sunday. It was dark by the time everything was loaded (it took me five hours to move it all). I drove the truck to the new place; parallel parked the truck and then returned to my old place to tidy it up as much as I could for the new tenant. I didn't get to bed until 3:00AM, which was when I called off of work for Monday.

August 1^st was the day that I finally started moving my stuff into the new apartment. Already this was turning into the most difficult and problematic move I'd ever experienced, and as I tried to lug my behemoth of a computer desk up the stairs to the new apartment, someone decided to make the move more difficult and problematic.

It was well into the 90s on Monday, with not a cloud in the sky. There was no humidity, but the heat was unrelenting regardless. I had managed to get my computer desk from the truck onto the landing of the building. I was sitting in the stairwell to the first floor apartments (I now live on the third floor) with the desk strapped to a utility dolly in front of me. This was when a nosy little malcontent with pubic hair on his upper lip decided to emerge from the basement. He took one look and me and one look at my desk and said, "what the fuck is that?"

Through laboured breaths, I almost managed to sputter out, "it's half of a computer desk" before I was interrupted.

"Were you going in and out at 3:00AM last night? I live above the garage and I don't want all this noise to be a regular event." I looked at him, ready to strangle him. His words began to meld together as he continued to complain. My vision blurred and all I remember doing at that point was raising both hands and flipping him the bird in stereo. Around that time, Joi arrived, which prompted pubic-face to make a mad dash back to his cave as if he was afraid of her.

I was red-hot both physically and emotionally at this point. How dare that little troll give me shit when I'm just trying to move in! I stood up, grabbed the dolly and engaged in some primal scream therapy as I pulled my desk up the first flight of stairs. This prompted another tenant – and elderly woman – to peer out of her doorway, ask if everything was alright and offer both Joi and I a glass of water.

The saga of my computer desk didn't end there. The staircases in this new building don't go straight up and down. Instead, they turn at 90-degree angles. This is great when one needs to take a break from lugging furniture up the stairs, as there are landings to rest on. This is not so good when a piece is too big to negotiate the turns. My stuck desk prompted me to run the hardware store to buy a hex wrench (I managed to get it in two pieces with an ordinary screwdriver, something not possible with the additional connectors which needed to be removed), followed by an hour on my back in the staircase trying to make my desk into pieces small enough to be moved into my apartment. I did succeed, and I also managed to put the monster back together again.

The proof lies with the computer used to tell this story.

It was dark once more when Joi and I finally emptied the U-Haul of all of my possessions. I returned the truck to the distribution centre that night and called off of work for Tuesday – a record for me, two days in a row, seeing as how I never call off of work.

I spent Tuesday recuperating from Sunday and Monday as well as doing minor things to try and bring this place from a box receptacle to an actual living space. Right now computer and stereo are set up and not much else. Joi has her bed set up, but the two of us are still living out of suitcases. It'll probably take several weekends before this place becomes "homey," but moving in is half of the battle.

A lot of people thought that this would never happen – Joi and I moving in together. A lot of people actively discouraged it or outright tried to manipulate events to prevent it. A lot of people think they know Joi and I better than we know ourselves and each other and a lot of people also think that they know what is best for the two of us.

A lot of people are dead wrong and can suck it, as far as I'm concerned. Welcome to the latest chapter of my life: cohabitation with my significant other. I love you, Joi.