Heather Toshiko

I’m pretty sure that I don’t really like change. Sure, there’s good change, like when you lose 20 pounds, or when you buy a nicer car, but generally, I’m not a fan.

For most of my life, I’ve lived in a home with several people. Growing up, it was my parents and my brother. When I moved out, I lived with my friend Jackie and our roommate Cindy. From there, I moved to a house with my brother and his best friend. When his best friend got engaged, my brother and I got our own place. Only in the last year and a half have I lived alone in a place that has been solely mine. I have to tell you, I kind of like it. At first, I was uneasy about the idea. I liked living in a place full of noise and laughter. I thrive on chaos. Now, I love coming home to a house that is just how I left it. I love my freedom and my sovereignty.

In exactly two weeks, the short-lived era of my residential freedom will come to an end. My guest room will no longer be the dumping ground for my forgotten clothing, old shoes, boxes of detritus and general crap. On April 30, it will become the domain of my beloved boyfriend and his computers, cameras, printers, books and nerd supplies. My guest room will become his office. In other words, change.

My boyfriend, Chris, is a great guy and one whom I still can’t believe I managed to snare. He’s my first and only “nice guy,” and I have to say that I’m pretty hooked on the breed. He’s making a huge sacrifice by moving to Orange County from his digs in Studio City, but for some reason, he seems to think I’m worth it. Sucker! I’m thrilled to have him here, and seeing him daily instead of weekly will be awesome. I just feel like there’s this looming cloud of change coming and I’m not sure what to do to prepare myself.

The change seems to already be happening in increments. Suddenly, there are healthy snacks in the fridge, surely not mine, and I’m sleeping on the wrong side of the bed because of Chris’ shoulder injury. My beautiful 42” plasma will be coming off of the living room wall and move to it’s new home in the master bedroom. Why? Chris has a big mama jama entertainment megaplex that will be taking up residence in the living room. My tv wasn’t good enough. Sigh. Then there’s the car situation. My garage is full of crap, so only one car fits inside. Will my 2004 Infiniti get to continue living there? Nope. Chris’ new BMW 5 series is moving in and kicking my Infiniti to the curb, literally.

I suppose these are truly first-world problems, and I really shouldn’t be complaining. The kids in Darfur would love to have any of these issues. Actually, I’m not even complaining. I’m getting a big entertainment center with a badass tv, a king sized bed, and DirecTV. Oh, and most importantly, I’m getting Chris. I suppose that’s all that really matters, right? If I’m willing to sacrifice my sovereignty, and he’s willing to sacrifice his LA lifestyle, then I suppose it’s meant to be. I just hope that once we adjust to the change, and we get comfortable calling things “ours” instead of “mine,” we can focus on what’s really important in our lives, “us.”