Response to comment

Agreed: sharing the report would be dangerous (and besides, the release has been delayed); I can almost guarantee that he won't read it, so I *would* have to answer questions/talk about it for him. And I don't have the stomach for ratcheting it up to a game of, "what? you didn't see that addressed in the report?" However, I don't actually mind talking about work content-- it's the "what did you do after you turned on your computer" that I don't enjoy. But the dynamics have shifted, evolved to the point where because he's so aggressive in his talking, I don't want to talk to him about anything, ever. Drive-by conversation is all I'll put up with. But even that can go awry when you're trying too hard. Take yesterday morning:

RM: You look nice today-- did you do something different? Wash your hair?
A.: I did just wash it.

It would be one thing if he'd meant that as a back-handed compliment, but it wasn't even that: he was genuinely trying to be nice.

For the record, I wash my hair regularly. The phenomenon to which my roommate was referring was that in which, in its just-washed, not-dried state, my hair is relatively flat and under control. It can't be frizzy or pouffy, because it's still wet. Once it dries, it is its own animal. It would be possible to bring it under control, but that would take an hour, and I have better things to do with an hour.

Then,

RM: I was going to call you last night, let you know I’d be in late… but I figured you were reading or something and I didn’t want to disturb you.

Which, once again, could be taken as, 'how nice, he didn't want to disturb me,' but a quick phone call is not what I consider a disturbance. The issue is not that I don't have thirty seconds to be made aware of a current situation; the issue is that I don't care to be drawn into extended substantive conversations with non-friends during my downtime. Of course, the bigger issue here is that there is no need for my roommate to let me know that he'll be in late (especially if late is 9:30pm), because I don't care. I don’t keep track of his daily comings and goings. Sure, I would be concerned if he didn’t get back at all, but I’d figure he was working late or out with friends.

I had dinner with a friend last night--one whom I hadn't seen for months--and I summed up the roommate saga as, 'he's a great roommate in every way, except that he thinks we're friends and aggressively talks to me when I need my alone time. It's fine now-- I wouldn't say he gets it, but he's trying, and I'm working/reading in my office more-- but his social aggression is impressive.

My friend said, "well, sometimes you just need downtime. You don't want to talk to anyone-- you've had to be 'on' all day, and you just want to do your own thing."

Thank you. That's all I'm saying.

And most people have had the same reaction. Only a few have decided that I'm an anti-social monster.

***
While we're on the topic of roommate, let's talk about When Trying to Be Excessively Helpful Goes Wrong. A cautionary tale. Now, I have plenty of examples, and plenty of wariness, of this phenomenon, because my mother has turned it into an art form. The motivation is different--she thinks I'm incompetent-- but the results are just as (usually more) counterproductive, and well documented elsewhere on this blog.

Now, I'm not saying I never need help. Uber-competence is not an attribute I claim to myself. Sometimes I do need help; sometimes my roommate is in a position to help me. Take the pot rack. That was helpful, and I really appreciated it.

It's trying to help for the sake of trying to help that I have a problem with. You're better off, 99 percent of the time, not trying to help.

Background for the case in point: I have a front lawn, most of which is green. The Washington Post, as delivered, comes in a clear or white bag (an environmental disaster, I know). The Post, in its bag, is clearly visible against the green lawn. Furthermore, I am used to looking for the Post on the lawn.

Case in point: On Thursday morning, I saw no Post. I didn't have time to call about, and thought maybe I just missed it, but it was nowhere to be found when I got home. On Friday morning, I was in my room when I heard the Post land on the lawn, and looked out to see it on said lawn. Nonetheless, when I came downstairs to get it, there was no Post.

There could only be one explanation: RM is taking or moving the Post. So I e-mailed him about it, and he said he'd been moving it closer to the door so that it would be easier for me to retrieve.

So I got home yesterday to find Friday's Post (Thursday's is still unaccounted for) write below the step outside my front door. Which is white, i.e. the same color as the newspaper in its bag. It blends in quite well. Which would be less of an issue if I thought to look for it on the step, but I am used to looking for it on the lawn, so when I open the door in the morning, I look out on the lawn, not down. That RM has all of the sudden decided to move the paper to where I won't look for it, without telling me, is not exactly helpful.

After I found yesterday's paper, I found a note from RM saying that the paper was on the step, but he could see how it would be hard to miss. Yes, it is-- because I'm not looking there.

On a positive note, I do love it when he goes away for the weekend; I also love the check that he left on the table-- that is helpful.

My parents are in Russia, and RM is out of town--and I'm too lazy to blog about my dentist's office-- so it'll probably be mostly roundups this weekend. I'm taking this weekend to catch-up-on-life--mow the lawn, hem some clothes, figure out whom I'm voting for on Tuesday, change my bike tires, etc. I'll be back shortly with some reading.