Roommates

I realized the other day that I've had 29 different roommates over the last ten(ish) years. Yes. I actually sat down and listed them out. For curiosity's sake. And I only forgot the last names of three of them. And yes, for those three I turned to facebook in an effort to, I don't know, search their first names and see if a last name that rang a bell popped out. But there are a lot of girls named Kristy.* Search unsuccessful.

Anyway 29 roommates. And of those 29, I only knew/was friends with/was related to eight of them prior to living with them. That means I lived with 21 people without knowing a thing about them before sharing a refrigerator and a bathroom with them. What can I say, I'm a risk taker. And I count myself pretty darn lucky that I haven't been traumatized by any of them. There were no psychos, no one who constantly cooked smelly food, none who stole money from me (I don't think?), and none who tried to kill me in my sleep.

Some were more fun than others of course, and there was that girl who didn't like that I breathed. Not, like, mouth-breathed or snored or something. Just breathed at all. I only lived with her for a month but I'm pretty sure it was the hardest month of her young life. At least that's how she always acted around me. Luckily she eventually married a sailor and I think she's fine now. I don't know, shockingly we don't keep in touch. ...Maybe I should try to find her on facebook.

I also had a roommate who would hide her food in random places. She was one of those who managed to stay skinny no matter what she ate so she'd bake a cake or a batch of cookies, eat half of the cake (or the cookies) for dinner and then hide the other half in her secret spots around the apartment. My other roommate discovered these secret hiding places and would, naturally, help herself to the goodies. We had a strict "finders keepers" policy. And no, she didn't share her spoils with me. I only found out later that she'd been stealing the hidden food. So. Greedy.

Anyway overall I've been really lucky with roommates. A lot of them have become really good friends. We've gone on road trips together, they've taken me surfing in Hawaii, they've accompanied me on my dates to ward talent shows (awkward but kind of hilarious in retrospect), we've spent entire winters snowboarding, they've tried to straighten my hair, they've written and sung songs to me for my birthday, and they've entertained me by losing all sorts of bets and having to perform various tasks (like wearing just a bathing suit around the apartment complex and asking random guys if they wanted to go hot tubbing). What. I was just trying to teach them the ills of gambling. Mission accomplished I believe.

In a couple weeks I will have a brand new roommate. Except my new roomie is someone I've lived with before so, although I look forward to living with her again (despite the fact that when we were in 5th grade we agreed after a week of fighting brought on by her vicious libel and slander - yes, both - she would write ridiculous accounts of our evenings in her class journal and then read them aloud during the sharing portion of class. ...I think most of the stories involved me speaking like one of Tiger Lily's tribe), she's not technically my 30th roommate. No, lucky 30 is still up for grabs.

This is the part where I should make some hopeful wish that it'll be a boy (i.e. husband - not someone with whom I'm just living in sin) but that feels weird. Maybe because I'm too old to make a sarcastic remark like that and have the family members who read my blog not think "aw, sad. She's trying to hide her pain. Lets set her up with someone we know. What about that guy you met on the subway? The one who looked kind of homeless? What was his name? Dusty buns?" (just kidding Ben, you can set me up with someone who has a nickname that reminds me of dust bunnies anytime). So in lieu of being sarcastic, my comment about hoping to have my 30th roommate be more like an eternal companion would have to be serious (or semi-serious). And that seems...odd. For a blog. For this blog. So lets just avoid speculation as to who lucky roommate 30 will be and I'll just check back in when that person moves in. In the meantime, welcome back roommate 29. Thanks for saving me from breaking my good-luck-with-roommates streak with an unknown 30th. I owe you.

*I'm not even entirely sure her name was Kristy. But I think it was. It was something like that. I remember she twirled batons to that Disneyland Electric Parade song. (does that count for anything?) She was really good actually.