My roommate, N, lives in an enchanted castle. I'm not exactly sure how the entire brick and morter structure, complete with cartoon singing birds and ever blooming roses, sprung out of the smaller bedroom of our shared 5 room apartment, but somehow she manages it. While I'm barely keeping things together between classes, work, research and feeding myself, she's cooking elaborate meals, enjoying long naps, and reading novels. She is depressed because she can't make microwave popcorn without a microwave, and calls me over to ask "how exactly to cook it so I may take this?" I'm on the phone, talking to my mom, or worrying about my assignments, or sleeping.
Tonight was the last straw for a while. I give her space when she cooks. She's vegetarian and won't even eat off my meat-soiled plates. So, I'm not going to cook up a skillet of beef broccoli next to her... I'm a decent human being. She gets home early. I get home around 6 and crash for a little bit. At 7:13, she goes into the kitchen and starts cooking. Then, she comes running in because my empty electric tea kettle is smoking. I have no doubt she bumped it when she got out her million and a half tupperwear containers of spices, but I can't say that to her. So, now its 8:30. I have no dinner, because I'm can't cook and eat until she's done, a soarched tea kettle, and a beef against my roommate.
But, I'm probably just pissed off because I'm sore, I'm tired, and I'm jealous that she gets to see her boy next weekend and I have to wait and work before I can see mine. See what I mean about living a charmed life?
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