Tuesday, September 06, 2005

It Looks Like Home to Me All Right

There is something about my apartment. No, it's not mice, nor the bass-loving neighbors on all sides. No, it's not Roommate's Den of Mystery, thus named because the pile of crap in her room will spill into the foyer if she keeps the door open for longer than .5 seconds. There is some sort of couple mojo, because at any given time, no more than three people actually live in the apartment.
I've lived in my apartment since September 2003. When I moved in, there was L, E, D, and myself. E had a boyfriend who lived nearby, but they split time between houses fairly evenly, so she was around often. D was unemployed and new to the area, so she was around a lot. L dated a couple guys, so she was in and out. I was new to my job and lazy, so I was around a lot.
Then L decided to date one guy exclusively. Then she got engaged to said guy. Then she moved to her boss' district to help his campaign (also where fiancee lived) but left her bed and leopard-print rug in my apartment, so she still paid rent (sometimes). When the lease was up for 2004, she left. Enter A.
A made it for even less time than L did-- about two months before she met her boyfriend, and started crashing at his house. Then her clothes started disappearing. And D and I were sad, since A is awesome and much fun to be with. She claims she's moving back in to spend the nights, but as far as I know, she hasn't returned.
I don't know because I'm the latest victim to this couple mojo in my house. Thanks to the numerous trips to Ikea the Whatever and I have made (current count: 4) his room has gone from a twin bed and plastic clothes drawers to a queen bed with a hot comforter cover, two nightstands, a dresser, a TV stand, a nice desk and sexy mood lighting. Despite the fact I'm closer to the city, we stay at his place because a) it's got design cohesiveness and b) he's got one roommate while I have three. Three rommates makes showering a harrowing experience in the morning, and keeping extra food around problematic.
The Whatever's roommate is really busy-- she works full-time and attends law school. From what I've seen of her, she's a sweet person and has a good sense of humor. But since I see so little of her, and the living room is still "a work in progress" I don't have much to say. Although I do need to have the whole, "Hi, I'm here a lot" speech with her. Which goes a little something like this:

Hi. I'm here a lot. I have a toothbrush in your toothbrush holder. I assure you this freaks me out too. At first I showed up under the cover of darkness and left in the wee hours of the morning. Now I show up with groceries after work and leave after I use your shower. So please, if at any time you are annoyed by my presence, tell me and I will gladly return to my home where my beauty products all live and the bass massages my tense shoulders. Sincerely, Amy.

This weekend, I imagined her in her yellow room, typing away at her blog, titled "Who the Hell is this Girl and Why is She in my Apartment?"
Friday: Girl came back with Whatever tonight. They are in bed. Lameasses.
Saturday: Still in bed at noon. Christ. Now they have gone to get their eyebrows waxed. Yes, both of them. Also left dirty dishes in the sink from the eggs Girl burned at breakfast.
Saturday night: Finally, they left. Hopefully not dead.
Sunday: Back with more Swedish furniture. Wow.
Monday: Does she even have an apartment of her own?

It's times like this I wish I lived alone, despite the love I have for my apartment. I do miss having all my stuff (and seeing my funny roommates)-- I have become the girlfriend in a suitcase. But I like waking up next to someone more.

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