When I moved to Japan, I spent the first month and a half living in my office. Now, that sounds worse than it actually was, because my office is simply the tiny apartment I bought back when we were all stuck at home during COVID lockdowns and border closures. To meet the requirements of my business manager visa, I quickly needed to find a separate living space (home offices aren’t allowed), and I found one on the 10th floor of the same building. A bat had to be chased out first, then it needed a couple of weeks of ventilation, but after that, it slowly but surely became my home.

I bought tatami mats, cabinets, more cabinets, pink curtains, and a futon to sleep on the floor. Very Japanese. From my balcony, I could just barely see the tip of Mt. Fuji, and as soon as I plopped down on my futon, I slept like a baby. (Watch the home tour video here.) But then I met François. Fast forward two years later, and I decided to move in with him.

Wait, hold up, stop. Toeps, didn’t you hate living together? True. But don’t worry, I’ll explain how it’s going to work.

This past summer, I hired a moving company to transport some of my furniture to François’s place. After his ex moved out, he was living alone in what, by Japanese standards, is a big apartment—with rent to match. It’s also a very nice apartment, of course. It has a fantastic bathroom, a big kitchen (way better than the single burner in my mansion), and two bedrooms. One of those rooms used to be the cat room but would now become the Toeps room.

We decided not to dive in headfirst but instead to make a step-by-step plan. (I literally made a spreadsheet, lol.) Besides being a generally smart move, it was also—mostly, haha, because I tend to dive in headfirst—because of my visa situation. François doesn’t live far from me, but since he lives just below the Tama River, he’s officially in Kanagawa, not Tokyo. I had no idea what impact that might have on my upcoming visa renewal. So, I decided to keep things as they were for a bit.

Well, sort of… In the meantime, I was busy moving stuff and furniture around. I brought my tatami mats downstairs and bought foldable mattresses at Ikea. My sofa bed was now in Kanagawa, and Charlotte was almost on her way to Japan! The 10th floor became a sort of guest room, but it was still easy to sleep there if needed. So when Charlotte arrived, I slept a few floors below her. Convenient!

Because I have Japanese class every Friday morning in Hachioji, I actually sleep at the office every Thursday. But in recent weeks, it’s been even more frequent because I really needed to clear out the 10th floor. My visa renewal came through, so I canceled the lease. The handover was today.

Clearing it out was quite an ordeal, let me tell you. I still wonder how I managed to cram so much stuff into that tiny little apartment. But whatever wasn’t going to François’s place or downstairs had to go. And getting rid of stuff in Japan is quite the challenge. You can’t just call for bulk trash pickup. Getting large items removed costs money! So my goal was to sell as much as possible, either on Facebook or to second-hand shops. That’s one of the perks of Japan: if the thrift store wants your stuff, they actually pay you for it!

One Sunday, François and I rented a car to sell all my junk at the four counters of Off-House, Hard-Off, Mode-Off, and Hobby-Off. Notoriously underpaid, of course, so with lunch and car rental, we just about broke even—but hey, at least it was gone. I sold a few other items via Facebook. My old, cold-water-only, top-loading washing machine, for example. That went smoothly, and the guy even took my old microwave with him. The cabinets were more difficult: a lady who was supposed to buy them failed to show up twice, so I ended up giving them away for free to someone else. Yep, Facebook flakes are a global phenomenon.

In the meantime, I canceled the gas, water, and electricity. Or rather, my teacher helped me with it. Signing up for these things can be done easily online, but canceling? That requires a phone call. A week later, during class, I was wondering aloud what to do with my beloved futon—I didn’t need it anymore, but it was somehow dear to me, so I didn’t want to sell it for pennies at Off-House—when my teacher told me she was actually planning to buy a futon. That same afternoon, she came to pick it up. I didn’t want anything for it; I was just pleased to make someone else happy with it.

Today was the handover. Early this morning, I woke up in my little office, ready to take the last bags downstairs and give the whole place one final cleaning. Though, I didn’t try too hard, since the landlord had already charged my entire deposit—plus inflation adjustment, could you kindly pay some more?—as cleaning fees, even before this inspection. Everything seemed fine, so with my vacuum cleaner, bucket, and trash bag in hand, I walked downstairs. Back to the office. It felt strange.

So as of now (or actually two weeks ago), I officially live with François. We recently bought a new couch together, and the new TV stand from Ikea is arriving in December. My room in the apartment is truly my domain, with a door I can close whenever I need some peace and quiet. About two days a week, I sleep at the office. So there’s your answer. I think this arrangement makes cohabiting work.