…of an era. No more crazy roommate. It’s all over. Ten months of getting along perfectly with a fierce friendship followed by 23 months of… well, not so much.

Me and Christian moved a flight up and now have city views, ceramic tile, an archway and granite counter tops. All of our appliances are stainless steel – which makes us super fancy and the burners on our stove come apart. On purpose. Weird.

But the funny thing is that even with perfect there is something wrong. My landlord who drinks like a fish thinks I was trying to take him for a sucker when he completely forgot everything we agreed upon – leaving to tell me I was taking him for a sucker. Stop breathing beer, man.

And our roommate never said goodbye. She left last Sunday morning. No goodbye. Which is so unlike her because she craves closure like it’s a new cool accessory.

In the moment though, I am finally able to smoke cigarettes from the comfort of my brand new sofa – which I can “duel” on and walk around without pants while cooking – and smoking and sitting on the couch -at the same time my man scratches his balls, lying on the rug – also while smoking. I can take a bubble bath, blast the TV, put on my favorite boy shorts, put green mud all over my body and hula dance across my kitchen – viola happiness in a can of mud.

And to make matters even better, the girl who worked for me for like a year (that I also didn’t get along with) went on maternity leave and isn’t coming back. The ironic part is we ended up getting along pretty well before she left and she even came over with small child and husband for coffee. Funny. The person I thought I would never talk to again is now a friend.

The kid working for me is pretty good. He’s nice and respectful and reminds me of a really good friend of mine. Awesome. And I might finally be leaving my store. For another busier store – which means a raise – sort of.

And so, presenting itself in a slow progression is the end of an era.

  1. That’s weird for her just not saying good-bye or anything. Were you two fighting a lot before she left?

    Congrats on the new place, the potential for more money, and the chance to run ’round your ‘partment wearing nothing but a smile should you see fit.

  2. YAY! For everything.

    I don’t think I could ever do the roommate thing. I’m way too picky about stuff and the first time the vegetable cans weren’t lined up label out in perfect rows according to contents, I’d kill a mother fucker.