A Battle Too Great for Even the Force

This has been a year of massive change for my husband and I. For one thing, there's the fact that he is now my husband, not my boyfriend. Then, I went and got a real live grown up job. Then, because of the job, we moved 750 miles from Kentucky back to New Jersey. Then, because of the move, he got a new job, too. His first time not working in the family business. Then, because of the new jobs and new locations, we bought a new house. With the new house has come some new furniture.

As a direct result of all of this change, we find ourselves, two perpetual children, on the brink of scary things that could lead to mini-vans and retirement planning and all sorts of other concepts we like to avoid.

So far, it's coming out in our little daily battles.

Getting rid of the student-life standard-issue secondhand furniture has been a big one. Most of my student furniture got thrown away in the move to Kentucky, so most of ours is actually his. He's reluctant to part with the beat up wooden desk and the slightly battered, supportless loveseat. When I can get him to part, he insists he'd rather sell them and "make a few dollars." I keep trying to explain how no one ever really makes money on a yard sale and besides, we live in a townhouse and are lacking the necessary element of a yard in which to sale. He doesn't get it.

I want to buy nice adult furniture. He says why pay for things that don't do anything, like a coffee table.

Neither of us really wants to part with the far too many computers taking up space.

Most importantly, neither of us wants to admit that at 28 and 37 , with three cars, two mortgages and two nagging sets of future-grandparents adulthood has come at us full force.