Roommates

Living with other people is...interesting. You all know this. Whether it be a family member, friend, or random dorm assignment, each of you has numerous stories about the people who share your living space.

I am very fortunate in my current roommate. She is as sweet as can be and I enjoy spending time with her. I have felt very at home in her house and grateful for my furnished room. This living situation is definitely a Craig's List win.

She speaks in essays. Having a strong poetry and literary background, she is very articulate, making good use of flavorful adjectives. I enjoy listening to her, but I often have trouble following her logic. Being emotionally driven, she sometimes contradicts herself. More than once, while pushing back on something I said, she has made an eloquent argument that ultimately confirmed my original point. Asking questions to clarify where she disagrees only results in her becoming more adamant. I generally let it go. I see no point in arguing with someone who's agreeing with me, especially one who is a more gifted speaker than listener.

I suspect perhaps it's my emotional tone she disagrees with. Whatever the source, these "disagreements" are pretty amusing.

Her talent for speaking also extends into sleep. The first time I heard her talking in her sleep, she had a cold. After loudly coughing, I heard her mutter some gibberish. She coughed again, then muttered louder. A third coughing fit, followed by more gibberish, now angry. She was having an argument with her cough!

Another time, while reading in bed, I heard her thumping around in the bathroom. After several minutes, she called out, "Could somebody help me? I'm trapped! And I'm scared!" Confused, I went to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar. With one finger, I pushed it opened to find her standing by the sink holding a towel. Seeing me, she told me that she was trapped and upset because her doctor didn't leave her enough claustrophobia towels. She didn't know how she was going to get out. Realizing she was asleep, I eventually convinced her that she could leave through the bathroom door. I think prior to my arrival, she'd been trying to leave through the linen closet. She was very grateful.

Despite appearing completely lucid during our conversation, she has no recollection of our conversation or the "claustrophobia towels".

She loves cats. I mean really loves cats, especially her current pet, Sugarloaf. Cuddle time with Sugarloaf is an essential part of her mental health. She often shares her philosophical ruminations about the wonderfulness of felines. I just smile. I'm glad they bring her joy.

Sugarloaf: the roommate's current cat and leader of the household.

(Side note: one of her previous cats was named "Buttershoe.")

In her late twenties and not long out of college, she is in the unhappy phase of realizing adult life isn't all it's cracked up to be. She's figuring it out though.