It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.....
Or the best of nights, the worst of nights. Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic. But it was quite the rollercoaster.
First the good:
My friend Ashley and I had plans to go shopping. We get to the mall, but she wasn't feeling good, so we went to dinner instead. What followed was about 2 1/2 hours of wonderful food and conversation. And a waitress who didn't appreciate us being there so long. But the place was empty, so we weren't holding up her table or anything. And we did pay so she could cash out or whatever. As usual, our conversation touched on a wide variety of topics from people we both know to baby showers and baby names to work. She's one of those people that you can talk to and talk to and the conversation just flows naturally. And that last sentence makes it sound like I talk and talk, but I mean that we talk to each other. It's not all me talking and talking, though I definitely talk! :)
Then the bad:
Get home around 10:00. I haven't been home pretty much at all since Friday morning. Literally, from Friday morning at 6:30, I wasn't home until Monday night at 11:30. Then I left for work at 7:30ish Tuesday and didn't get home until 11:30ish. So, I really haven't seen my roommate. At least not since I left her a note asking her to either a) respect that I've told her my knives aren't dishwasher safe and take the 2 seconds to wash them by hand or b) not use them. Not unreasonable seeing as the house is mine, 95% of the stuff in the kitchen is mine, and I've asked her twice before. Well, she went off when she got home, but in this super-fake way of hers where I pretty much decided she's either a liar, delusional, or quite possibly both. She said she cleans up after me all the time (not true), that she takes the garbage out the majority of the time (which is SO not true - she moves it to the top of the stairs and then expects it to walk itself out to the dumpster), and that it's not right that I have decorations out but don't want hers out (I own the house; she rents a room. She can keep her junk in there). Oh, and one of her main points was she didn't know I didn't like it when there was a huge mess in the kitchen and I should have told her. Okay, aside from everything else, really? I mean, really? I should have to tell a 31-year old "Hey, by the way, I'd prefer it if you didn't leave so many disgustingly dirty dishes in the sink that I can't even wash my hands." Or, "Oh, could you clean the George Foreman grill completely and NOT leave bits of food on it for the next time? And in less than a week before it smells up the whole house would be fantastic."
I mean, she does NOT have a right to equal say and equal space in the house - her rent does not allow for that. Should I tell her that? If so, how should I say it? Should I just avoid it like I did?
And then when she was done with her crazy-lady spiel, she was like "Do you have anything you'd like to say?" It was clear she expected an apology (again, for asking her to do what I had already asked her to do months ago), and I said no. She was like "Really?" And I was like "Yep."
I really wish I hadn't let her move in. I liked having more space for my stuff. I liked only cleaning up after myself.
(P.S. If anyone happens to read this that knows my roommate, please be polite and respectful and keep it to yourself. I needed to vent and she doesn't have my blog address or anything to access it.)