After I finished with my housework yesterday, I sat down in my saucer chair and got Netflix going on my TV (bless TV web apps, seriously), tuning into the second season of Supernatural (because I finally get to watch it!). My roommate was getting ready to head out somewhere while I lounged about in pajamas, a cup of yogurt in my hands, watching two gorgeous men chase after things that will probably induce nightmares in me for the rest of the week (and yes, it’s worth it). My roommate headed for the door but suddenly stopped and turned to look at me.
“Do you want anything from Qdoba?”
I looked up in surprise. “I, uh… um…” Partially, I was dumbfounded by her sudden offer, and partially I had no idea what to say because I’m not much of a Qdoba patron. (Chipotle’s more my thing.)
“Tell you what, how about some chips and guac?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great. How much are they so I can–?”
“Oh no no, no need to pay me back. See ya!”
Sure enough, she came back roughly an episode and a half later with a bag of chips, guacamole, and mild tomato salsa just for me. In return, I gave her unlimited access to my freshly-made energy bites, and she happily took two. I couldn’t fathom why I was suddenly graced with free chips and dip; had I done something right? Had she done something wrong? Was this a silent barter for my energy bites? Was she buying my affections with mashed avocados? Was she trying to poison me?!
I’ve been toting my chips and guac around campus with me (yes…), and snacking on them; as far as I know, they’re poison-free. I guess I should quit questioning it and just accept my roommate’s sudden generosity.
I spent the entire day out of the room, either cooped up in the library or later at our pool lounge, which oddly enough is a great place to get some studying done. I finally got back about half an hour ago; our room door, which is usually propped open at this hour, was shut. I keyed in and found my roommate sitting at her desk, her left hand holding her phone to her ear and her right hand tapping the desk surface almost feverishly. She didn’t turn to look at me, and it was only after I’d gotten to my side of the room that she muttered a quick hello before returning to her call.
“I understand everything you’re saying,” she said tensely, “but I don’t think you’re listening to my side of it…”
Uh-oh. It was her boyfriend on the other end of the line, and by the sound of it, this wasn’t exactly a cheerful conversation (see: Taken Roommate). Now I understood why the door had been uncharacteristically closed. I had to urgently go to the bathroom, so I did, but I didn’t know what to do after that. Awkwardly, I keyed back into the room, pulled off my shoes as fast as I could, whipped my laptop out of my bag, and headed out of there, mouthing the words, “Skyping my friend!” when she looked back up to see where I was going. I closed the door behind me and dashed off to the floor lounge.
Clearly, I’m not Skyping anyone right now. That was a lie. While she was the reason I was leaving the room, I didn’t want my roommate to feel responsible for driving me out, as I knew she would; she deserved her space. I didn’t want to sit through what seemed to be one of her nastier spats with her boyfriend, and especially after the free guac and chips from before, I felt I owed her one.
(Speaking of guac and chips… I wish I’d brought them to the lounge with me. I’m hungry and I don’t know when I can go back into the room. Darn.)
So, here’s proof that, while we may not be friends, and while many times she can make me raise an eyebrow in disbelief, we can at least be nice to each other. She brings me snacks when I least expect it, and I vacate the room when she needs privacy. Seems solid enough to me.