Had a great weekend with the man visiting. I've moved into a new, also temporary place until we make the big move, so he got to see my adorable pad, which is still about 20% from being completely unpacked. The clothes and the shoes...they are a project.

As usual, we ate and drank too much. This is what happens when time together is like a multi-day celebration. It's hard to get into a normal routine when you have to pack in all of the stuff normal couples do over several weekends into a couple of days. This brought us to the discussion of keeping in shape. I'm a yoga girl. I'm fine with only doing that, it keeps me healthy and stops me from slapping people around, with its calming and balancing nature. He, however, has always been a sports guy. Soccer, basketball, whatever. The only thing is, this isn't a convenient or consistent way to work out, since it is heavily dependent upon getting a bunch of other like minded people together to get a game on. Also, it takes up a LOT of time, with the traveling to the place the game is happening, playing, and often, with the end result over some victory or losing beers, which ummm pretty much defeats the physical activity of the whole thing.

The fact is, if he could just find a workout he could do on a daily basis, that only takes a few minutes, he would be more likely to stick to a regular routine and stop complaining about the gaining and losing of the LB's. He really does obsess over it. The problem is, he cries boredom with any such workout, and I guess being bored for 30 minutes a day isn't acceptable. I don't see the big deal. He has a job. That can't be endless excitement all day long, right?

So he tells me he found a great workout. The sand bag workout. Awesome. So he read about some gimmicky nonsense in a men's magazine and now he wants to purchase bags of sand to heave to and fro? Silliest thing ever, right up there with the thigh master. It is, in fact, the men's magazine equivalent of the late night infomercial for the thigh master and all of its similar work out "tools". Only it's a bag of sand, so since it's not formed plastic in a girly purple color, it's totally a manly workout accessory. I'm sure that bag of sand will stave off his workout boredom...for 3 whole minutes.

How did he become so gullible and actually get on board with this idea? He's actually really pumped up about it. Help, people. I see sandbags cluttering the floors of my future home. I'm so not pumped about it. Unlike most clutter that I can just throw away if it gets annoying to me, they are heavy.

Well, I don't have any bad habits, of course. I have nitpicky-ness more than bad habits, actually, but I do hate putting dishes away. That can be the man's job. I am very particular about the way stuff is put away, though.

I also let laundry build up until I'm forced into a laundry marathon. When the marathon begins, though, it cannot be stopped. It's hours of hot laundry action.

And I throw stuff away. That won't bode well for any mountain of stuff that accumulates, because I'll just chuck it all. I've thrown away plenty of my own things I should have kept (receipts, business cards etc), so I have no doubt I will be careless about the throwing away of other random stuff.

I also tend to leave lights on all over the house. The electric company sends me a fruit basket every Christmas.

Less a bad habit than absent-mindedness, I constantly lock myself out of my apartment. I live in a doorman building, so that isn't a problem really, except for the slight inconvenience of going back down the elevator to retrieve the keys from said doorman. Made more annoying when I've got the dog with me. All of that up and down confuses her.

I'm sure we'll work out the picking up of some slack for one another. It should only cause an argument every couple of hours or so.

There are plenty of things I will have to change as I move in with my lovely girlfriend, most notably my laziness when it comes to cleaning or putting things away.

I'm terrible at it right now. I blame it on the fact I have no fear of a pop-in. I live too far away from my friends, so I'm not worried anyone is going to drive a half hour to an hour just to pop-in to see what's up. Elizabeth is in another state, so she isn't coming out unless I know.

Thus I can pile clothes on the floor for later, leave luggage bags lying around with clothes still folded imperfectly inside from my last trip, and keep the bathroom in a state an outsider might qualify as unacceptable.

I won't be able to be so slow in cleaning my dishes. This one probably won't be as hard. I'm not that bad with this after living with a friend who was Captain Particular about things. He'd fix the silverware tray so all the knives were facing the same direction.

No more waking up to sportscenter and blogging/surfing from bed. This will be a no-no and it remains to be seen if I'll be allowed to get up and leave while she's still sleeping so I can do it in another room.

I've got a habit of dropping my mail, things from my pocket, or whatever comes up, onto a side table in my place so I can deal with it later. Much later, after a small mountain has formed, I will sift through and separate the necessary from the unnecessary and clean things up. The sad thing is most of the stuff is crap I know I won't be keeping but I hold onto it for awhile anyways. It should go straight into the trash.

My habit of eating weird meals will probably get me an earful about nutrition, causing me to have to give up some of my favorites. These include eating just a large steak for a meal, eating a bowl full of cooked but otherwise untouched pasta (no sauces or butter sometimes, just plain), or eating the exact same thing 8 nights in a row. I'm thinking she won't stand for this.

All a small price to pay, as I shouldn't be doing this stuff anyways.

Elizabeth, I command you to tell the world (Or at least the 40 people who read oddcoupling) where I can expect problems from you!