Mono Monday : Fatherly love

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I don’t talk to my biodad. Last time I saw him was almost a year ago when we went to the funeral home for my uncle. My parents separated when  I was 7 and got divorced many years after that.

My mom met her boyfriend more than 25 years ago and he’s my « real » dad. I love him very much but we don’t say it. It took us a long while before we could hug, I was reticent to have to share my mom. And I didn’t recognize his authority. I was still hoping my biodad would remember he had two daughters. I stopped hoping he would call on my birthday a few years ago and I have been happier.

My mom’s boyfriend is the one that lends me his drill, he comes to Ikea with me, he assembles furniture and he helped me move a million times when I came to Montreal. Every time I go home, he makes my coffee, he makes homemade fries and he shows me his new computer, his pond, his new TV.

These pictures show the shelves my dad bought for me at Ikea. He went there by himself after we had gone and what I wanted wasn’t there. He returned to buy them for me. And he lent me his drill. I don’t depend on people much and I came to see this drill thing as a big thing. He goes at my sisters and fixes things or he goes skiing with them. I never ask for anything but the little bit I have, I cherish.

I put books I’m selling on them and the gifts I put aside for future birthdays or Christmases.

Shelves to put the books I am selling on Amazon.

Then there is the bookshelf he assembled for me. It was the first big piece of furniture I bought myself. I am still very proud of it.

Ça y est, je vis dans la maison du géant

The movers were at his place at 7:30 and it was all over at 9:30 or 10. Including moving his stuff at my place, dropping some of my stuff on the side of the street and moving my fridge and oven at my BF’s friend’s place.

Now I feel like I’m in  a giant’s place. His couch is huge, his bed is huge…When I go to bed at night I always feel like « The princess and the pea ». When I sit on the bed, my feet are way above ground and when I settle myself to sleep, I feel surrounded  by the bed and pillows. It’s comfy. The table is at the  counter’s height so at the moment, my shoulders are scrunched up and my feet have to rest on the foot rest.

We have lots of stuff and we are rearranging, organizing, givivng lots of things. It makes me a bit insecure to think that a lot of my stuff is now gone. But hey, if it doesn ‘t work out (things are going great, no worries, but hey one never knows) I’ll just have to buy all new stuff like an adult…a consumerist adult but…hey.

I find it incredible to get along with him so well. At the moment, we are readjusting our relationship and the way we function. For example, we used to watch DVDs while eating. Now we eat and talk.  And we talk about the budget.

I think things are more fun since he lives here. Haven’t baptized the rooms yet though since the move-in. I’ll have to think about that…

Oups ! On a brisé le lit

Oh-ooooh. My boyfriend and I broke my bed. It started more than a week ago. We were having sex and we heard this noise from my bed. It was just one bang. But this morning, the mattress sunk on one side. The base is broken. I’ll have to buy another base and I don’t have the money for it so I’ll sleep with the mattress on the ground.

The base is ten years-old. And I’ve been having lots of fun in it lately…and my boyfriend is not a lightweight so…I guess it’s time for a fresh start. I « received » it from a previous long-term boyfriend who didn’t want it because I had chosen it so he gave it to me when we broke up. Along with dishes, ustensiles etc.

So it’s gonna be out with the old and in with the new…and silence. At last, we won’t be making so much noise with my bed.