Deux.

I think we were in a state of denial over having to move out of the city. Chris worked in the suburbs and faced horrendous traffic on a daily basis. I didn't work at all (you know, unless you consider caring for a newborn "work"). I didn't really drive too many places, but when I did drive, it was usually to my parents house, waaaaay out in the suburbs...of Iowa. It was at least an hour drive, if not more, to get there. It made sense to move to the suburbs, but that didn't mean we wanted to do it.

I mean, god, wouldn't that just have sent Chris right over the edge? When I met him, he lived in a studio apartment. He owned a futon, a TV and a play station. His (dorm-sized) refrigerator was home to some beer, Hawaiian punch and York peppermint patties. He either ate at work, or he ate subway. He was nocturnal. Because he tended bar for a while, he knew, like, everybody in the city. And he was always out drinking with them (when he wasn't working, of course). Then, in one fell swoop, I made him respectable.

I can remember talking to my mom on the phone one night, shortly after Chris and I got married. I was decorating the apartment for Christmas while he was at work, and I was explaining to my mom all the holiday stuff I had bought, and where I had put it all. I also told her that I busted out my vast collection of snowmen (which might be a source of maybe a small obsession for me) and had put them on the window sills. "Does Chris know about the snowmen?" she asked. "Um. I don't know. If not, he'll know soon." "Poor Chris. Last year he had a futon and a play station, and now he's got a winter wonderland. He had no idea what he was getting himself into." So true, mom, so true.

So...fast forward....respectable...responsible...etc. But Chris had lived in the city for so long that he couldn't bear the thought of living elsewhere. And I had only lived in the city for a short while and wasn't ready to give it up yet. So, we kind of avoided looking for new abodes, because neither of us was truly ready to move.