I’m back in the laundry room, though rather than waiting for my load to wash, I’m eyeing all the washing machines, hoping someone will come collect their things and let me use it. Another girl came down here on the elevator with me, but she left her things here and returned to her room. Big mistake, sweetie. I’m going to mercilessly pounce on the next open machine. I just want to wash my germy blankets ASAP! (I had a cold this week.)
On my first trip down here, I brought down only my pillowcases, bedsheets, and the fleece blanket I use to cover myself at night, leaving my comforters and naked pillows in a heap on my bed. As I walked back into my room to get my laptop, my roommate looked at me wide-eyed and said something I hadn’t expected to hear:
“Oh! You’re awake?”
I was confused. “Yeah… I’ve been awake. Didn’t you see me earlier?”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d gone to take a nap though,” she replied. “I saw your bed and thought you were there.”
Somewhere out there, Sherlock Holmes is in his fictional grave rolling about and screaming, and I can understand why. My roommate’s ability to deduce, it became apparent to me, was very, very poor.
Evidence that suggested I was napping:
- The heap of blankets did somewhat look like it could be a bundled person.
Evidence that suggested I wasn’t napping:
- The overhead light was on.
- The curtains were wide open.
- The windows were open (and that makes for a noisy room, what with all the city traffic outside).
- The side railing of my loft bed was removed (and I never sleep without that in place).
- My pillows were visibly at the foot of my bed.
- My mattress was very much naked (who sleeps on a bare dorm mattress?!).
- My ladder was propped against the wall, away from my bed.
- The TV was on, and quite loud.
- The door was propped wide open.
- Not five minutes earlier, she had seen me diligently cleaning my side of the room. Why would I stop working mid-task and suddenly take a nap?
“I was calling your name over and over to see if you were there, and since there was no answer, I didn’t know what to do so I’ve been really quiet this whole time.”
I looked at the bed, the room, and then back at her. I thought about all the times in the past were I had been very evidently napping, and she’d carelessly flipped the lights on, obnoxiously slammed her drawers shut, propped the door open (my floormates can get loud), etc., and I couldn’t fathom why today, when the timing was completely off, she’d thought of being considerate.
Words failed me, but fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice. She went back to daintily eating her low-calorie pretzel crisps and hummus, and I collected my laptop and was off.
Just this morning, my friend had made the comment, “It’s not that your roommate’s dumb, but rather… oblivious.” It’s true, and it’s made living with her… well, something of an adventure. My roommate reminds me of Katy Perry’s one-shot character, Honey, from How I Met Your Mother; she can be as remarkably naive about the most (well, I thought) common sense things as Honey was gullible. I really have found myself simply shaking my head in quiet pity, thinking, “Oh, sweetie, no.”
It’s not that I hate my roommate… she’s just not my favorite person. We deal with each other, make polite, amiable small-talk, and otherwise just go on doing our own thing and staying out of each other’s way. I do sometimes wish that I could’ve had a roommate I could be good friends with, though, and I’m slightly jealous of the other girls on my floor who found best friends in their roommates. At least she’s not a booze-chugging party girl or anything of the sort, and I’m glad for that.
Bright side of it all? At least I have some pretty interesting stories to tell.