ROOMMATE A, OUR HERO
My neighbor’s house set on fire last night. Being that I live on a DC emergency access road, the sounds of fire trucks and police cars usually lull me to sleep, but being that they all stopped short outside my bedroom window, I got dressed and went to investigate. 5 fire trucks, including the hook and ladder, a police cruiser and an ambulance pulled up within minutes. The windows were smashed, bars cut, smoke billowed out of the house. Roommate A was the one that called 911, thus is the hero of the block. It surely put perspective on what I perceived to be a no good, very bad Wednesday.
I’ve had a headache for what feels like forever this point, but I finally conceded that I did most likely have a sinus infection (and not a brain tumor) and bought half of the pharmacy aisle at CVS. Despite my knack for self-diagnosis, I usually go for a mixture of straight denial and/or it’ll just go away theory to illness. It takes me about 24 hours, multiple consultations* and some serious pain to finally admit I don’t feel good. And then I cry, because being sick makes me feel like a baby. So I’ve got that going for me. But when the neighbor’s house sets on fire, your headache really ain’t that big of a deal. Luckily no one was home.
Post-fire fiasco last night, Roommate A and Roommate R and I were making idle chit-chat before bed. Both had recently been on first dates– one went great, while the other was just so-so. Roommate A has many tricks to the trade, which I suggested he share with R.Me to R: A is convinced that when a woman likes you, she can’t stop touching her hair. A: That is absolutely true. Me: Seriously? I don’t know… K [from the next room]: That’s true! On our first date you put your hair up and put your hair down and then up and then down.
The damn traitor. How did he know I just wasn’t having a bad hair day?! Realizing I was horribly outnumbered, I quit and went to bed. Keep this in mind ladies– first, if you touch your hair, dudes know you are into them and secondly, overall we don’t know shit about men.
HE GOT ON MY LEVEL
K and I were on our way out of the house this morning when I stopped to get a snack for the road.
“I heard a bag crinkle, are you eating salami again at 8AM?” K asked. I nodded. “Well, give me a piece then.”
I’m rubbing off on the poor dude. I guess I did tell him he had to embrace my idea of breakfast foods (salami, asparagus etc.) if this relationship was going to work out and turns out he has– so K gets a gold star for the day.
*My co-workers took a vote– here are my symptoms, do I have a brain tumor or sinus infection? Sinus infection won.