It's surprising that the packing process of our moving campaign could be very long, hectic and exhausting, thinking about the fact that my fiancé and I only got less than two bedrooms' of belongings to pack with almost no furniture. What was dragging us backward along the track is not the unfortunate scattered rains, neither the never-seemed-to-be-ending academic assignments, but the all-the-time-necessary debating between us – the debate about what to keep and put in the boxes, and what to put beside the dumpster.

CC, my fiancé, is definitely the 'thriftiest' guy you could find in this world. The tragic part of this rare, sounds lofty virtue roots from the cause. What makes up his 'thrifty' is neither the true means of saving money, nor a way to save the planet's recourse, but merely a tough tendency in his mind-set to keep all the old things he has ever used forever. It's like once he's gotten used to one thing, it becomes perfect no matter how old, ugly, worn, shabby it would become through time. Some proofs? He carried some kitchen utensils from China to the U.S. in case these Chinese styled things would be hard to find here. He was right and the utensils were all convenient. But look what he's taken: an aluminum pot that's older than me, with un-cleanable oil stains all over it and numerous dents; a typical Chinese carving knife made from pure IRON, not even steel, its wood handle heavily worn and its edge badly chipped. Out of the kitchen, into the bedroom, the same thing happened – whatever he brought from China, has to be something OLD.

I am the opposite, unfortunately for CC, AND fortunately for our home. A household and kitchen enthusiast, I am always looking forward to rejuvenating everything in the home. And I want to make the renewing systematically, throwing away all the outdated and replacing them with updated altogether. So, for me, relocating could be a thrill, a great opportunity to make a new home. Then the debates rose. My goal was to dump every old things and his is simply to keep as many as he could. So our packing day became quite a sight: while I was packing the things I considered valuable, he was painfully checking the to-be-dumped pile, picking up items and asking me to pack them in the boxes.

At first it's all decided by words. He would tell me all the reasons that the thing is still usable and not that bad, I would squeeze up my brain to beat him with my eloquence and stubbornness. The scene changed when we were all tired of arguing. He would call my name with something waving in his hand and put up an inquiry face, I would look at the thing and immediately return him with an utmost scorn. The result was 'black or white': either he gave up and put the thing back in the pile, or he didn't, and kept waving the thing until I took and packed it. Later on as he realized he's given up too many of his old 'friends', his inquiry face turned to a pretended crying one and I had to return it with a gesture of banging my head on the wall.

Anyway we finally moved and are both happy with the beautiful, new apartment, equipped with LOTS OF new furniture and utensils. He no longer misses his old 'friends' that much and even started to compliment about how nice the new, stainless-steel knife feels and how shiny the new pots look. He did manage to keep his old, heavy cotton quilt and pillow. We even took them into the motel where we stopped by on the road to ensure him a good sleep. So, I am not cruel. :P

The best thing about his weirdo thrifty? He's going to become my husband and I am going to get old one day, and he would never think about putting me beside the dumpster.