Signing a lease together was a big deal. But, it didn't really make an impression on me. I mean, I put my name on a piece of paper and put it out of my mind.
Moving in together was also a big deal. Sure, we'd basically been living together since the day we met, but, having never lived with someone before, it was significant. It was also seamless. I barely felt it.
Getting a joint bank account was a pretty big deal as well. The account is only for household expenses and there's no way to do anymore damage to my credit than grad school has inflicted already, but having the checks arrive with both our names on them was exciting for a moment.
Admittedly, this has been the easiest, most natural transition I could ever imagine (even if I couldn't imagine actually moving in with someone 8 months ago). But, it's the books that gave me pause. Josh easily has as many books as I do. Luckily we have the room for a library. But he also has a ridiculous number of manuals and other nonfiction books which challenge my system. How do you alphabetize a book on Linux that has no author? And should it be regular nonfiction or some special computer category? And how many editions does a person really need? More importantly, does anyone really read those things?
Seeing all our books jumbled together was a little disconcerting. Going through them to get rid of duplicates (together we had 3 copies of Fast Food Nation) was even more so. If I turned away for a moment, I'd be unsure whose copy of Wicked was whose, but I felt compelled to make sure mine ended up on the shelf and his ended up in the donation pile. Plus, what happens if we split? Who gets custody of the sole remaining copy of Into the Wild? Or Vegan Planet? Or Nickeled and Dimed?
Suddenly, I understand why people get pre-nups.