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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Thursday, January 17, 2008

The New Roommate

While I was in Virginia, big big changes were made back here in Chicago. The bars went smoke-free, Christmas-themed karaoke happened without me, and my house got another roommate. For those who don't know, let me explain a little bit about my living situation. I came to Chicago in March, gave myself 48 hours to find housing, and at the last minute happened to stumble upon a fully furnished room in a gorgeous three story house in the northern part of the city, all for significantly less than I paid for my apartment in Richmond. And it comes with a maid service. I mention that only because when I was informed that a monthly maid service was included in my rent, it felt just like that scene in Beauty and the Beast when the entire kitchen comes to life and starts dancing. Some women fall for jewelry and flowers. This woman falls for the idea of not having to clean anyone's pubes out of the shower.

Falling in love with the roommates came just as easily as falling in love with the house. I moved in with two roommates - one boy and one girl - both of whom are funny and immensely laid back and seem to appreciate my awkwardness. The three of us instantaneously got along and in the 8 months I've been here, there hasn't been a single dispute, not even a minor PMS-driven one, over anything. It's kind of like living in The Waltons, but, you know, less poor and stuff.

When the boy roommate informed me that another boy would be moving in, I was a bit wary that perhaps the easy-going dynamic of the house would be thrown off. When I learned that the new boy also worked from home, I was even more wary that if it didn't work out, not only would my housing be screwed, but my job environment as well. The new guy moved in two weeks before I got back. The morning of the day after I drove into town, I woke up expecting to see a tall, bald Italian dude across the hall. Instead I saw this:

You can't really tell from this grainy picture, but that's definitely a framed poster of a boldly mustachioed Mike Ditka surrounded by the fadey faces of prominent American heroes in the background. It's hanging just outside of the new guy's door and is currently the only piece of art gracing the second story of our humble abode. When the new guy caught me in my snowflake-themed pajamas staring at the new art at 9:30 in the morning, he skipped salutations entirely and simply said, "Can you believe I found that thing IN A DUMPSTER?!?!?! What kind of crazy asshole would throw that away?"

"Hi, I'm Chris," I said shaking his hand. "We're going to get along just fine."


At 9:21 AM, Blogger Our Man In Chicago said...

What kind of crazy asshole, indeed! Man, can I come over and stare at that for a month?

At 12:41 PM, Blogger d said...

your abode sounds so awesome. i gotta see it.

At 4:27 PM, Blogger Leah said...

I got stuck with the roommate who shat on the stairs. Life is so not fair.

At 8:45 PM, Anonymous Jeff said...

...and I had one who, when locked out of his room, slept on the dirt cellar floor. And, oh yeah, he was 63.

At 3:32 PM, Blogger Working Girl Two said...

love your blog. quite witty and of course, i love hearing other post-grads gripe about life after college.

i'm pretty sure my frosh year roommate was a nympho. so you're lucky!


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