I suspect joining households is always a challenge, but I also believe that it may be less of a challenge when one is single and in her twenties. The first time I got married, my first husband and I moved into one house and did have to hold some of the “which towels are keeping?” discussions, but this happens on a whole new level when those joining houses are in their forties and bringing along six kids between them.
Somehow what I thought was going to be a wonderful time filled with joy and dreams realized was a bit more of a nightmare. Deciding which blender to keep and which one to sell/give away takes on a whole new level of terror when each of you have gone through a divorce and lost a blender already. Add to that fear the fact that the object of my affection, having been blessed with five kids, comes into the house with numerous dishes – none of which match and most of which have cartoon characters on them – and well, filling the cupboards became somehow fraught with emotional decisions rather than simply a case of setting up house. “You can’t get rid of that. I made that when I was seven.” And before I knew all of my fancy dishware and every serving bowl I owned was relegated to the attic in order to make room for the mismatched plastic ware that they were used to. More practical? I suppose. But that didn’t make it easier to take.