I am a domestically-inclined person. I like it when things are clean, and I don't mind doing the cleaning to make that happen. I enjoy cooking and making people at home in my home.
Generally, when I move, I am 95% unpacked and settled in within about three days.
This time it's been harder to do that because I'm not just working with my own stuff. The Man is completely settled in to his own place and has been for five years. He has places for things (receipt drawers, tool benches, winter-coat-and-other-ski-stuff closets). Merging all your stuff is... interesting. It takes some creativity and sensitivity (and apparently, time). We're trying to make it work and we're both good with compromising, It helps that we agree that there are some things that he's better at doing, and the same for me. Making things clean and welcoming and pretty falls squarely in my camp.
There are still dishes and various kitchen items to be given away all over the dining room table. Most of my clothes are still in tubs shoved in a closet. I can't find my cuticle scissors and the basement looks like it was hit with a cyclone of packing materials. But.
So far, the living together - it is good*. Last night when the Man came home after a bike ride we sat on the porch with a glass of wine and watched the Somerville fireworks. Then we came inside, watched about 15 minutes of The Wire before he fell asleep, and we went to bed. Nothing out of the ordinary, but made all the nicer by the fact that we were both at home.
*Of course, we've barely spent more than 30 waking minutes together since I moved in. Yesterday I made us breakfast before work and that was nice. This morning as I got out of the shower I heard him putting away the dishes from the dishwasher. But I realized that neither of us had run the dishwasher and he was putting away dirty dishes. AWE.SOME.
Honey, step away from the cleaning device and let me take care of it...