In some senses, I suppose I'm adapting well to my living situation. While on the one hand I really like it, there's the other hand to consider. The other hand being my roommate. My roommate who, because she's just so interesting, I've diagnosed with a never-before-seen condition: Bipolar Anal Retentiveness

I can think of no other explanation for hearing "Make yourself at home" and "We don't use trash bags in the trash can" from the same mouth. The bipolar thing also relates to the fact that some days she's fun and amiable, and actually enjoys conversing with me, or at least exchanging pleasantries.

And then there's the other side. The one that makes me want to yowl like a cat in heat and flee the premises. An action that's rather difficult to accomplish, however, because she's like a minx and corners me. Then she kills me with her absolute lack of sense of humor. Her 'pounce', if you will, involves her saying "Um," before beginning. Yesterday, I'm pouring a bowl of cereal for breakfast:

B.A.R. Roommate: Um, Phil? Phil: Yo? B.A.R. Roommate: Um, I've been meaning to talk to you. Phil: What's up? B.A.R. Roommate: Um, well, I've been noticing the plates in the dish rack, and the bottoms of them don't seem to be getting cleaned. Phil: That's strange. Must be water streaks or something. B.A.R. Roommate: [ignoring Phil] Um, see, it's not nice to have the bottoms of your plate dirty. Imagine going to eat at a restaurant and having the plate with your food on it dirty. On the bottom. Phil: ... B.A.R. Roommate: So just make sure to clean the bottoms of them really well. Phil: ... B.A.R. Roommate: Okay, thanks. See you later!

Later, I wondered why I didn't deliver a more catty remark than the stunned silence I gave her. I don't know, but one thing is becoming clear: if she's looking at the undersides of plates and thinking that water streaks (she's as guilty as I am, leaving the plates to drip dry and all) are somehow causes for infectious diseases, then it's time for a serious intervention. Food needs to be stored on the counters, couch pillows need to get tossed around and left in disarray*, magnets need to cover the entire refrigerator, and by golly, she's got to wear something other than her little business suits that are only black and white, and her sweats and sweatshirts that are all navy blue.

So, any predictions about what will come next? I'd be interested in hearing what you think will be the next order of contention, once I fool her into believing that I've actually taken her words to heart.

*I'm thinking that perhaps a family of Sock Zombies might really come in handy to hide between the pillows, especially on the days when she has company. The super elite guests will go to move the pillows and sit down, and suddenly their unsuspecting fingers will get bitten off. And if she gets upset, I've already got my own personal zombie body guard to throw at her, so I'm covered.