Babysitting

I am officially too old for roommates. I might as well claim them as dependents. Seriously. The amount of nonsense is absolutely recockulous. Out of the three of us that originally moved into the townhome together, two of us remain. Since we moved in five years ago, we have had several nomadic roommates, whose short-lived stints with us have caused me more wrinkles and gray hair then almost 30 years of school. Generally they were all nice; they weren't horrible people, and proved to be good company....at times.

But as the oldest one in the house, and the one who apparantely has the most 'life experience'...and by 'life experience' I mean knowledge how to change a light bulb, nail a hammer in the wall, shovel snow, jump start a car, clean up after myself, clean kitchens and bathrooms thoroughly, and.....well, you get the point.

My life has been anything but boring since living at 324. From dealing with crises such as 'the washing machine won't spin' - because you put 384 lbs of clothes in it at one time, to 'I blew a fuse and can't reset it' - because you have two 125 watt bulbs in sockets (on the same circuit) that specify no more than 40 watts, I feel that I've been putting out unneccessary fires since day one. But such is the price, I guess, for saving money that I really don't have. (Seriously, I would pay $800 to live alone if I actually got a real salary as a grad student).

Ugh, my headache is coming back. So I'll just leave you with a few stories.....

1. So our unofficial roommate is Frank. He doesn't pay rent, he evades the IRS, and he generally upholds none of our household duties. He shows up every winter, will eat any food that is left out, and might leave a parting gift (careful - those aren't sprinkles!). Yes, Frank is our resident mouse. Who we love dearly, but encourage to stay with the neighbors as much as possible. So, when I warn you that leaving fresh bread in the cabinet is a ill-advised, take my word for it. We've gotten to know Frank quite well over the years, and we know his games. While you [unnamed roommate] were totally disgusted that Frank found his way to your loaf of bread and tunnelled a whole through the middle so that when you held it up you could see straight through, I was secretly laughing my ass off! And this is where I took out the "I told you so" banner, and waved it high.

2. "Wooooow....what are you doing? How do you do that?" [question from unnamed roommate two upon seeing me drill holes in the wall to hang the valence rod for the curtain]

3. Steel wool should not be used to clean a flat top stove. Raise your hand if you knew this. [unnamed roommate three, put down your hand].

4. A classic. Our house is old and large, and as such, heats unevenly. So, the roommies upstairs use space heaters. However, because space heaters suck up energy - although they are somehoe cost efficient in our house - the roomies have to coordinate activities. In other words, you can't have the hairdryer, microwave, paper shredder, and vibrator all on at the same time, or a massive fuse will be blown. So, the roommates have had all winter to practice this. After about two months of trial and error, they seemed to finally have gotten it right.

So, one weekend, I had 'company'. 'Grown folk company' to be exact. For those of you who are slow, ask someone else. Anyhoo.....without putting all the details of my once-in-a-blue-moon escapades on here, I'm in the basement with 'company' when I hear what I think is a knock on the door. Now, mind you, I warned my roommates that the basement would be inaccessable for about two days (the finished basement serves as my room, and you have to pass through the main area to get to the hallway leading to the washer and dryer....along with the FUSE BOX). No problem, everyone agreed. Everyone could wait to do laundry, and everyone promised to treat the light sockets with dignity and respect and not eff things up. In fact, everyone was quite enthusiastic about why the basement was going to be off limits (hey, ladies is pimps, too!). So, I was very confused as to why I hear what began as a slight rapping and eventually turned into a clear, decisive (and bold) knock on my door at 11 p.m. and a voice pleading 'I'm so sorry.....we blew a fuse.' WTF?!?!? Flag on the play!!!!!

And then there was dark....for the rest of the weekend.

This is my incentive for graduating.