So, I am totally moving. Like, right away.

I love moving. I love looking for new apartments. I NEVER GET TO LOOK FOR NEW APARTMENTS. Not really. It sucks. I've lived in the same awesome apartment for the past 2 years. I'm looking to downsize, and add another animal to the mix. I want NEW furniture (or new used 70's pad furniture...a more dainty collection than we currently possess), and NEW problems. I want to tackle those problems head-on. I want to move this weekend.

Unfortunately, our lease is up in July. It was supposed to be up in September, but I asked our Landlord (he who is Lord of all the broken crap in our current apartment) to let us out early and he said yes. I think that he's planning to raise the rent when we leave. Anyway, the point is that I totally cannot move out this weekend.

That sucks.

I'm a planning person, I like looking ahead and finding new projects and discarding old, tired, unfinished-type projects. Moving is the perfect thing for me. Moving every few months. Until I am dead. Basically, that's the plan. But W isn't going for it. It's sad really: apartment-hunting is such a huge joy for me, and then I come home and it's all blaaaahhhh blaaaaahhh our lease isn't up anytime soon...blaaaaaahhhh we don't need to do this now, blah our apartment is really great, everything else will be smaller, blaaaaahhh etc. He is right of course.

I cannot tell you how much this depresses me.

For once, couldn't we both be excited about the same thing? Instead of, for example, me being excited about moving and him being excited about the new coffeemaker. Or, me being excited about the restaurant and him being excited about his plan for world domination. Me, excited about a puppy: him, excited about the PS2, and hey, sweetie, maybe not a new puppy right now, at least not until the ferret succeeds in offing himself.

And hey, we're married! Really, I'm extremely happy about the married part. But the reasonableness...the sheer unrelenting logic of his thought...that kills me.