Moving in with my girlfriend. I have been a little concerned about this. I don't want to turn into one of those couples. The student lifestyle has suited me well for the last ten years, and this is a dangerous step on the road towards becoming a Smug Married.
In order to keep removal costs down (in true Scots style) I am moving half of the stuff myself, by hand, demonstrating self-reliance and pluck and stick-to-it-iveness (in true British style). It's only a fifteen minute walk to the new place, forty-five minutes when laden with a box roughly the same size as I am. I believe the appropriate verb is to schlep (in true Yiddish style).
Struggling across the Meadows this morning with a box that—just—fits into two Ikea bags (one over either end, to give it handles), pausing every five minutes to get some feeling back into my fingers, I realized that this thing would have no weight at all if it was shared between two people.
There's a metaphor for something here, if I could only put my finger on what.