When the roommate’s away
I'd like to start this off with a quick story. It was the summer of 2007…
We interrupt this blog for a breaking news update:
Ever feel like you're being watched? Or read? This isn't going to be some sort of Rear Window-esque situation. Just a quick update on my blog from last week - the noise from the construction of the new building beside mine has gotten both louder and closer to my apartment. This is proof that someone on the inside read my blog and decided to punish me by upping the noise level, intensity and frequency. Guess the squeaky wheel gets nothing at all. Perhaps I should use more discretion when I blog, but hey, this is the Internet and when has discretion ever been an issue here before? I will continue to bring updates as this situation develops.
We now return you to your regularly-scheduled blogging, already in progress.
…and that's how I almost lost my big toe on a dare. Learn from my mistakes, kids.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the blog.
This week in my adventures in apartmentland, I was an empty-nester, as my roommate was out of town. There's no trouble in paradise, but my roommate gets a bit antsy if he doesn't get to see the kick-butt Boston Red Sox play at least once a year (Editor's note: On this date the Red Sox are tied for last place in the AL East). So, I had the place all to myself and if you've seen Risky Business (which I haven't), you know it was time to party. I got wild. I made fajitas; I got a bit lackadaisical with my chores; I really let loose.
Having lived on my own for a year in a bachelor-pad that wasn't too hard on the eyes- but also wasn't great for hosting gatherings- you pick up some less-than-stellar habits. Dishes pile up in the sink, laundry piles grow, garbage doesn't go out as much as it should. This by no means was how my life was all the time. I'm not a slob, but I don't love cleaning. It was just how things got from time to time. You start to not see the mess anymore; it just becomes a part of the apartment. ‘A part of the apartment,’ - I slay me.
Living with someone else you become more aware of yourself and your habits. For me, this is a good thing. If I'm feeling lazy and wanting take out, but my roommate is making dinner, I will too. If I'm in need of a nap but my roommate is planning to work out, I will too. I find having someone around helps me to keep on task. I'm sure some of you are the same way. Roommates, if you find the right one, have way more positives than negatives.
But he was gone, so our apartment fell into a bit of disarray under my reign. Dishes piled up slightly in the sink, a few grocery bags of garbage queued up, awaiting their destined trips to the garbage room. Nothing too bad, but old habits die hard and with no one around, I was okay with it.
Before you know, it was Saturday and my roomie was due back that evening. The apartment wasn't looking its best but a quick Big Comfy Couch-style 10-second tidy (which was not as fun as it looked on the show) and a trip down to the scary/stinky garbage room had the place looking like new. My roommate came home to a (relatively) sparklingly clean apartment and was none the wiser as to what had gone on in his absence. Until he reads this blog. Shoot, maybe I do need to practice more discretion.