These are the days of our lives.

Have I mentioned before how wrecktastically (yes I made up that word, the post needed it) disastrous my roommates are? First, the youngest one dumps her boyfriend who proceeds to break back into the house, argue with her, and then threaten her with a dull (albeit very large) kitchen knife. Then the same roommate invites her ex-con bestie to live with us, after which countless unsavory "gang-bangers" start showing up at our house at all hours, often when roomie and bestie are not even home.

Then my other roommate, who thinks she is the most responsible human being on the planet (they only allow a CERTAIN CALIBER OF PEOPLE to sign leases, you know), allows her two ex-con siblings to move in and share a room. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I'm all for fresh starts... until one of them gets his girlfriend pregnant. The same girlfriend who asks me for a cigarette after her third ultrasound. I had to hold the vomit in, people.

And this whole time I've kept my pretty little mouth shut because the arguments with these people are quick to devolve and insanely hard put a stop to. But then my food. Good lord, my food. It disappears daily, HOURLY, and there are only so many people in the house right now. But four (five, counting the pregnant girlfriend who is "visiting" while they "figure things out") are on team trashtastic, so of course it must be me who is eating copious amounts of.... my own food. Even though I'm asleep for 99% of the time I am in the house.

I need a solution but I'm unwilling to give up a room this size for this little rent, and they are unwilling to give up their idiocy. What to do.

Sometimes I'm too lazy to boil water...

I've been sick recently, and have chalked it up to allergies, but have a persistent cough that I've been trying to eradicate before IT'S TOO LATE, OH DEAR GOD.

Anyways, I've found brief respite in what I like to call a tea "habit", since I'm going through like 20 bags a day. And I am waaaaay too lazy to sit there and wait for the water to boil, so I usually just stick a mug of water in the microwave.

So today I'm in front of the microwave when one of my roommates stops, looks through the window, and then whips her head around to ask me "Are you boiling water? In the MICROWAVE?!!". Yes, I am boiling water in the microwave, I tell her. "Did you know that it could blow up?" she asks. I had a hard time holding THAT laugh in, let me tell you. So I say well, you're going to have to go ask someone who knows about science, but I'm pretty sure the worst thing that can happen is I burn my hand. Since it's my hand, I think we're all O.K. here.

She still watches out of the corner of her eye for the next minute and a half, and lets out a little sigh while making an exaggerated "THAT was close!" face at me when I finally pull the mug out and stick the tea bag in.

I'm pretty sure she has a future at NASA.

Man...these weekends are way too short.

Man now works 9 days on and 5 days off. That means that, every couple of weeks, his weekend will be during my week. When I have class. And work. It stinks.

Day one:
Me: "Want to take a shower?"
Man: "Not especially"
When we get back from running errands, he heads straight for the kitchen and gets the Nutella out. He clutches it like it's his first born.
Man: "Will you get me bread?"
Me: "Like, go to the store?"
Man: "No... it's in the car"
The car is about 100 feet away.
I say no.

He falls asleep about two minutes later, and proceeds to take up the entire bed. Here I've been sleeping on my side every night since he left for work; mostly out of habit. Apparently his body has no such habit. I try not to take offense.

Oh well.

I'm sad about how stressful our short breaks together have become. If he's here over the weekend, everybody is demanding his time; family, friends, and myself. If he's here during the week, I'm so busy I barely notice.

We try to cram so much stuff into a very short couple of days, and have barely had two seconds alone in the past few weeks. Tonight we went to the premier of "Terminator: Salvation". I liked it. He loved it. He fell asleep right when we got home.

*Sigh*

I guess I can't win.

Such is life, and he's worth waiting for. He leaves today, and I'd better get some sleep so we can spend time together in between my classes.

Accidental frustration

A conversation about Recycling. (wherein my snarky commentary was very effectively withheld and is now being released in italic form)

Roommate: "Hey" (holds up cardboard microwave dinner box). "Things like this need to go in the recycling."

Me: (wondering exactly what "like this" means to her. Like... rectangular? Like... Marie Callender brand?). "O.K. well, I'm pretty hardcore about recycling, I don't usually throw much in the trash."

Roommate: "Well our garbage was overflowing and our recycling was empty this past week."

Me: "Noted. I think you need to talk to blank, and blank. I'm pretty sure that belongs to them" (They seem to have grown up in a remote village not familiar with recycling. Probably somewhere in California).

Roommate: "Ok, well, I'm just telling everyone."

Me: "Did you tell blank and blank?" (you know, the Aliens not familiar with the concept of recycle, reduce, reuse? And save the earth? Captain Planet would be so ashamed...)

Roommate: "I'm not blaming you. I'm just telling everyone."

Me: "Right. I got that. But did you tell blank and blank yet?" (because I don't trust for one second that this way anything more than a ploy to disturb my slumber)

Roommate: "I'm telling everyone."

Me: (WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER??? Oh, it's you. Again.) "Ohhhhkeeeee..... thanks...."

This is about where I gave up. I still want to know what "like this" means. Because, you know, if we're only allowed to recycle rectangular objects from this point on, I'm going to have to get creative.