Jonathan’s stuff arrived yesterday. After spending the night on a red-eye back from California, not in my bed, I came home to a bit of a discouraging scene. Our newly-cleaned living room was a fiasco of boxes, guitars, bicycles and an inquisitive Boston terrier. I soon warmed to the idea, when I realized I now had a spanking new set of pots and pans, an XBOX 360, great cooking knives, and a whole new library of books, games and CDs. The stuff also gave my place the distinctive Scotsmontonian smell, and Jonathan was excited about finally being fully moved in. We happily chose forks and editions.

Then, this morning, after my first sleep in 48 hours, I found out that Jonathan’s alarm clock plays Mission Impossible, the loud rendition. Nine desperate snooze-minutes later, it tried a different tactic and blasted me with the A-Team theme.

I think the Human Rights Charter says I’m allowed to take a hammer to it, right? If not, maybe I can get Amnesty people to write their local congressman on my behalf…

The Scotsmontonian Jonathan permanently settled in Montreal on Saturday, ending our routine of red-eye Edmonton weekends, webcam conversations and calling cards. So far, he’s found out the wonders of Jeopardy!, Comet is getting daytime walks, we’re painting our now-joint office in pop-art fluorescent green and turquoise, and our biggest argument has been about what key to play a Belle and Sebastian song in. Oh, and I’m to discontinue my practice of reading in bed, because “God, that’s so domestic”.

I hope he doesn’t clue in too soon that tidying the house, picking up the groceries and making dinner while I work might possibly be construed as “domestic” by some. Domestic or no, it’s really good to be à deux.