Day One

Here's what I have to report after day one of cohabitation:

I never thought I'd have to remind my mate to brush his teeth. Or push his chair back in under the table.

However, he probably didn't think he'd have to deal with a girlfriend who is intimidated (at a near panic attack level) by the grocery store and is so anal, she wants every cord hidden from sight (which is impossible in this apartment).

Newly domesticated quandary #1: I had to call my mom to see if cookie sheets are dishwasher safe. I'm guessing yes? Please don't make fun of me!

A brief history of my cooking experience, to give you an idea:
* I have never made a meat by myself. Not kidding. I have been in the same room when meat was made, but my hands have never touched a meat thermometer, much less meat.
* I had to be taught how to shred carrots. Two years ago. When I was 22.
* The only memory of cooking with my mother that I have is licking the mixer after making cake/cookies.
* I once made a Bailey's cake, got excited, jumped up and down and forced the cake to sink in the middle. When I iced it with bailey's and sugar, the icing pooled in the center, creating a delicious, albeit potent shot. Disasters.

So this should be interesting.