
"Our belongings are stacked in nearly every square inch of the place, save for a few treacherous paths between each room. We've been unpacking nonstop for at least three hours, and I finally have to use the bathroom. I excuse myself from the chaos, then realize we have yet to locate our toiletries - yes, even our toilet paper. Great. I'm panicking, then yelling at him. "Can you look for it? Can we steal some from the building's communal bathroom? Can you run to our bodega to grab a roll?" We've lived in this neighborhood for less than a single afternoon. We don't have "our" bodega yet."
"Rule number one of moving: always keep must-haves, like toilet paper, on your person. Rule number two? Nothing said in a relationship during a move really counts. At least that's what my mom always told me, a piece of advice passed down from my dad's first boss after my parents' first relocation as newlyweds. Although my partner and I had already been living together for a few months (he moved into the Manhattan apartment I had been in for four years before we decided to take our talents to Brooklyn), we had never had to do the act of moving together. And I expected it to be just as central to our love story as my parents' was to theirs. They spent their first night in the house with nothing but a box TV and a footlocker."
A couple moves into a new apartment with boxes filling nearly every space and only narrow paths between rooms. After hours of unpacking, the narrator needs the bathroom and discovers toiletries, including toilet paper, are nowhere to be found, prompting panic and arguments. Parental wisdom recommends keeping must-haves on one’s person and discounting harsh words exchanged during a move. The couple had lived together before but never moved together, creating anticipatory stress about differing personalities and the logistical strain of relocating to a new neighborhood.
 Read at Bustle
Unable to calculate read time
 Collection 
[
|
 ... 
]