It's not fair to resent my roommate for getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom (every night this week). It happens to the best of us. It's been especially disruptive this week, because I have poison ivy, so when I wake up to the sound of his stomping, I have trouble going back to sleep because I'm itching.
It is fair to resent my roommate for going about as if I am his housekeeper. How prickish is it to leave a toilet paper roll out without placing it on the fixture? Of course, I'm sure in his view, he deserves a medal for replacing the toilet paper at all (although there's no need--there's an extra in the vanity). And don't even get me started on the bread crumbs on the counter and sugar on the stove (no, he doesn't actually use the stove--just pours sugar into his coffee over it; he doesn't use anything but the microwave and the toaster). Which reminds me, I need to go back downstairs and move yet another Styrofoam box with food remnants from the kitchen trash to the covered trash. Because it's not like we've talked about this once or twice.
I also don't mind coming home late from work, per se. I mind coming home late from work because it leaves little or no time for me to have dinner and get organized before RM gets in and starts asking me about my day and talking about the weather. Because I've always been ever so receptive to that.
Five. More. Weeks.
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