I posted in August about getting new roommates after being bumped up to the apartments, and two months later I adore them. One, though…
She’s driving us nuts.
If my undergrad roommate had pulled some of this stuff, I might’ve actually changed roommates. The Roommate is a sweet girl underneath it all, but there are some rough edges that need smoothing and no delicate way to tell her about them, though we have tried and will keep trying.
Our biggest issue is cleanliness. Britt, Lauren, and I are low-grade clean freaks. Roommate is not. It seems second-nature to B, L and me to dry the dishes before stacking them in the cabinets in some sort of coherent order: cups with cups, leftover dishes and bowls nested by size. Apparently, it’s not, though I think Roommate might be getting the picture after I tossed her a towel to dry dishes while she helped me unload the dishwasher, and after I made a point of restacking the bowls neatly.
It seems like common sense to mop up a spill or wipe off the fridge handle, right? Right?? We’ve cleaned peanut butter, jelly, ice cream, and God-knows-what off that handle. We’ve cleaned sugar, flour, paprika, cookie dough, taco seasoning, and bread crumbs off the counters. We’ve mopped up soup, sauces, and more God-knows-what off the stove. I’ve de-greased the sink after Roommate made hamburgers and didn’t even bother to move the dishes that were already in the sink before dumping hot grease down the drain; loading the dishwasher that night was just a bucketful of joy. And the microwave…*shudder*…well, the microwave has turned into a good example of why you should put paper towels or some type of cover over spaghetti O’s. I’ve still not gotten all the sauce out of the crannies in our microwave. Things get even more interesting when all the crumbs on the carpet are concentrated in the spots where Roommate sits to eat.
Of secondary importance is Roommate’s tendency to monopolize conversations, many of which we don’t want to have in the first place. Sometimes we’d just like to eat dinner in peace, without a dissertation on the different kinds of cheese Roommate isn’t allowed to have on certain high holidays, or past boyfriends, or past roommates who were freaks. We appreciate that we’re the first “normal” roommates she’s had. That doesn’t mean we want to be bosom buddies spending every second together. Roommate seems to have a very Northern conversational style, which means talking ninety miles per hour with minimal pauses for others to contribute. Honey, when you’re the only one talking, this is usually a clue to take a breath and pass on the baton. Just a hint.
While we’re on the subject of conversations, though…*don’t* try to out-talk someone in her specialization. She will stomp you through the floor in a heartbeat. This means don’t try to out social work the social work major, or, in my case, try to argue history based on pop history books and one Gen Ed medieval history class. It’s a pretty safe bet that most women who became nuns didn’t do it because they were closet lesbians or wanted temporal power. Plus, a fair portion of early Medieval nuns were actually promised to the Church by their families and had no choice about the matter. Oh, and Vlad the Impaler has a worse reputation than Elizabeth Báthory for sheer quantity and creativity. Take my word for it, ‘kay?
And on a completely unrelated note, does this look like Cory Monteith to anyone else?
Photo credit: Rich Santos