An ode to my roommate, whom I love

I love my roommate. Quite the statement, isn’t it?

I love the way she never turns off the lights and always turns the desk light on when I go to sleep (even though I do it too). I think it’s her way of making sure that I get my light dose for my photosynthetic processes.

I love how she makes a lot of noise whenever she comes in late – I think that the amount of noise she is making is proportional to the hours she’s spent out before midnight and inversely proportional to my capacity to deal with it. I love her street language – I am just annoyed that I don’t speak street. I would reaaaally like to be able to say ‘yo’ and ’bruv’ the way she does. But I know that she thinks about me all the time because she says these words only when we are in public – when we are in our room, she doesn’t say a thing. I love the way she waits in front of the door whenever I go into the bathroom in the morning and invades the bathroom as soon as I am out, even if I am just out just because I forgot my lipstick in the room. I guess that I just have to wait or skip lipstick because she ain’t gonna finish in time for me. See, I actually can speak street, I’m just not very good at the 'yo' part. But I’ll learn, no worries!

I love how she never gets her hair out of the shower and it regularly gets stuck in the drain and how regularly the bathroom gets flooded; and how afterwards, she just pretends that nothing happened, no matter how many times you ask her; and after a while, the room floods too and then she can no longer pretend nothing happened but she still audibly wonders how this happened! And I don’t say that my hair is not in there, too – but it is not! I dare you to DNA test it and see if you can find more than one hair that’s mine. I like how her half of the room is just a mess. I don’t say that my half is the cleanest place in the universe, but I try to keep my things on my desk mainly – the only messy things about me are vast quantities of papers and books pilling up– on my desk! But her clothes and shoes and food and everything just invades her desk and the floor and the beds and everything. I am quite amazed by what wonder my half of the floor is not packed with all kinds of 'treasures'. Oh wait, I know – because normally, my half is the one that gets flooded first.

I love how she loves the environment so much that she never uses the washing machines and always hand washes her clothes in the sink – don’t ask me how it works! I think it must be another one of her super-powers or something because she still just manages to flood everything all the time. And of course I love to see all her not-so-sexy underwear hanging everywhere all the time. Who wouldn’t?

Did I mention that one time she went hiking for a weekend and when she came back she left muddy traces all over the carpet? It looked really cool – exactly the kind of art I love! Isn’t it really nice of her that she thinks about my mental well-being and aesthetic choices? Of course she didn’t bother to clean up, but (un)lucky me, the cleaning crewwas due to come the following Tuesday.

And on top of everything, she actually knows how much I love her. Probably. That must be why she just assumes that she can just take my things (almost) all the time, from pens and staplers and papers to soap and once, my foundation, even if my skin tone is at least four shades lighter. Or has the wrong undertone. But, hey, she totally managed to rock the look!

So, yes, I do love my roommate and, as you can see, I have a lot of reasons to. Sometimes I just wish that everyone could be at least as lucky as I am and have such an awesome roomie! Yo!