Avery and Jack’s Domestic Bliss Part I

Memories flooded back as I dialed our landlord. Jack and I had once been so happy in this apartment. We knew that we’d discovered our own piece of heaven the moment we’d first entered it.

Shortly after Jack graduated from college, he moved into my West Loop loft. It was bliss in one and a half rooms. He’d received and accepted a job offer from a company located in Schaumburg which allowed him to work from home two days a week. This worked out perfectly for us.

My shift at the hospital began promptly at 11:00PM. Jack and I would have dinner together each evening, either preparing a delicious meal at home or going out to one of the many establishments on Restaurant Row. Wishbone was always favorite. During dinner, Jack would tell me about his day, filling me in on all of his work gossip and—on days that he telecommuted—any good television I’d missed that afternoon. Afterward, I’d head off to work and he to bed.

I return home the following morning as Jack was preparing for his day at the office. We’d have breakfast together each day. Over eggs and coffee—champagne for me (7:00AM is my happy hour!), I would tell him about my night, filling him in on all of my work gossip and any breaking news that’d happened as he slept. Afterward, he’d head off to work and I to bed.

The newness of this arrangement, however, wore off rather quickly. Although our schedules complimented each other perfectly, the loft didn’t. The living and sleeping spaces were separated only by a half wall. While this setup worked perfectly as a bachelor pad, it was hardly ideal for coupledom.

On days that he worked from the apartment, I couldn’t get any sleep. I’d hear him typing and faxing and teleconferencing and whatever else-ing cubicle-dwellers do. Jack suffered just the same hardship. On my nights off, he’d hear my phone call and television shows and my using the blender when making margaritas for Jasper’s and my bi-weekly tele-cocktail party.

After two months of sleep deprivation, we’d both became irritable and unpleasant to be around. Enough was enough. For the good of our relationship and respective careers, we had to find a home that was more appropriate for our lifestyle. And what a search that was.