Saturday, January 2, 2016

When I Had 2 Roommates

I am a recent college graduate, I live with my parents, and I often think of just last year, when I had a student apartment with two other senior girls. Three single gals (well, actually I haven't been single in the past three years, but sometimes I forget and momentarily think I am single, then realize that no, I am not single like them) painting the town red (but our town is already red because of all the shootings that happen here.)

What was it like being three single gals, living it up in an apartment in Illinois, two and a half hours from the only cool place in Illinois? (No diss to my man Abe, I'm sure Springfield was cool in the day of horse-n-buggies and two-feet tall top hats.)

Here is one of those priceless scenes of three wild and crazy gals I remember to this day, one year later:

Me: So, I go into the bathroom, minding my own business, doing my thing, you know—I won't go into the details, YOU ALL KNOW WHAT WE DO IN THE POTTY, DON'T LIE, GIRLS!—but I was there, on the toilet, and I hear a knocking on the door.

Roommate 1: Will you be out soon?

And I was like: Um, yeah. What did she think? That I was leisurely reading and doing my homework in the bathroom, two feet from the kitty litter boxes she never cleans out? Yeah, the best place to spend my spare time.

Roommate 1: Good, because I need to hang up my laundry to dry.

Me: Still using the bathroom and dumbfounded—Why don't you just use the dryer? 

Roommate 1: Said in disgust— They're my delicates! I can't put them in the dryer, they will be ruined.

This was one of the times I noticed the difference between me and Roommate 1—I didn't have delicates. I had $5 Wal-Mart packs of Hanes underwear and five-year-old training bras that I never grew out of. (On a side note, that is why I hate the term "training bra," because what were they training me for? To girls like me, they are just regular bras that fit much better than those I can find at the fancier local Target or Kohls.)

And I put these $5 three-packs of flower-speckled undies and training bras in the dryer. And then eventually they turn from off-white to gray. And my boyfriend deals, clearly because we never had the same type of sex life as Roommate 1.

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