Have I mentioned how bored I am? I am so bored I cleaned my apartment. I took a two hour bath just because I could. I watched a crappy pirated copy of the Sex and the City movie to be hip. The rumors are true. It’s a shitty movie.
I’d be less bored if my roommate was around, but Michelle is in DC with her family. Which means I’ve been all alone, wandering back and fourth between the couch to my bed to my desk to the kitchen to the bath tub. At least if Michelle was here I’d have someone to test my jokes on. And someone to watch these bad movies with. And someone to stop me from eating an entire box of chocolate Teddy Grahams.
Two months ago, I would have rejoiced. My former roommate and I were not exactly friends, and when you live with someone who passive aggressively hates you for two years, you begin to loathe being home. I began to hole up in my six by seven square foot room, with just enough space for a full bed and a narrow bedside table. I rarely came home after work. I went out of my way to go to happy hours, movie screenings, dinners, and open bars. I hated being in that tiny apartment. I hated being in the common space, even though the kitchen and living room were relatively spacious and airy.
But now that I live with Michelle, I’m actually paying a lot more for rent and saving money. How? Well, I actually enjoy being home. I cook meals now. I can have a few drinks on the couch with my best friend. It is pretty awesome. I forgot how relaxing it is to live with someone who doesn’t make your jaw clench when they walk into the room.
Michelle and I went to college together and vaguely knew of one another, I suppose, by senior year. We were not friends. She was a tall blond sorority sister who studied psych and often began her sentences by saying secretly in her thick Chicago accent. Such as, “Secretly, I think 95% of the student body is hideous.” I was a short red head who studied writing and often began my sentences by prefacing how high I was. Such as, “You guys, I’m so high right now I think I can see God in the quad, and he knows I don’t believe in him, and he looks pissed.”
So we weren’t friends. We weren’t enemies, like some of the freaky girls in her sorority who hated me because their boyfriends thought I was hot. Doesn’t that have the makings for a bad pop song? But, you know, we didn’t really know each other and could really care less. And then last spring, Michelle moved to New York and came with her friend Sam to meet me for brunch. Eventually, Sam, who is from England, moved to Germany, and Michelle and I remained friends. The rest is New York City roommate history.
Our friends worried when we began apartment hunting. Michelle and I have never really had a fight, or even a disagreement, yet people began to get nervous. Joanna was blunt. “I think you two are going to eat each other alive.” Ah, right to the point. When we signed the lease on our suburban place in Stuyvesant Town, Jacob laughed. “You guys are going to kill each other!” he squealed, only half joking.
It’s been a month, and it’s great. We still need to hang some art in the living room, and maybe get a new coffee table. Oh, and once we disagreed on how much ice we should make for a party. I said more. Michelle said what we had was just right. But it’s amazing how much potential tension has been alleviated by a dish washer. It’s amazing how we enjoy watch the same crappy shows on TBS. And, it is amazing that she actually reads books I suggest to her.
Secretly, I am relieved to be living with Michelle. Not so secretly, I have eaten an entire box of chocolate Teddy Graham’s in under three hours.