Having roommates in Dallas is entirely different than having roommates living in the middle of the country. Out in the sticks [insert giant smiles & thumbs up emojis] roommates are like a lifeline. As in, it’s a good thing someone else lives here because if they didn’t would anyone find me if something happened? kind of lifeline.
In Dallas, it’s a little different, (like we have neighbors and stuff) but there are a few standing principles that stand true either way.
First, the best part of having girl roommates is having multiple closets to choose from. I can only imagine what a let down it is to discover a husband’s closet just doesn’t cut it on the I-seriously-have-NOTHING-to-wear days.
But second, and maybe more importantly: we always come when someone screams.
In our house, a scream is probably indicating one of two things. Either someone’s on the phone hearing an engagement or pregnancy announcement (happens approximately 10x per week), or there’s a GIANT SPIDER* RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!
Like any good roommate, we come running.
*It’s important to note that “giant spider” is relative. “Giant” might equal something out of a science fiction movie about to eat the bathtub, or it might very logically equal one the size of a moderately average fingernail.
We are non discriminatory in our screams.
A couple weeks ago, the house was dark, Mallory was already in bed, and I was eager to finish my nightly routine and crawl into bed after a long day. I calmly reached for my toothbrush, and out of the corner of my eye I saw it. It was on the counter, peeking out from behind a picture frame, staring at me with huge beady eyes and daring to inch a little bit closer…
A giant- no really, it was GIANT- roach.
((I’m typing this, way after the fact, and I still just gagged.))
Without thinking, I screamed and ran into the hallway. Mallory (like any good roommate) came running, and we (she) ran for the roach spray. Unfortunately, in the rush of it all, He Who Shall Not Be Named had made his way into a drawer in the worst designed bathroom ever. In order to not be in jumping distance of You Know Who, we (she) had to athletically stand in the hallway and reach her spraying arm halfway around the door to maybe hopefully get some toxic fumes into his evil lair (AKA the top drawer that normally only houses dentist-recommended toothpaste).
The whole scene was absolutely ridiculous, and at this point we were both doubled over laughing, while also moderately terrified that You Know Who would end up finding us again when we least expected it. Laugh so you don’t cry, right?
Anyway, Rebe (who is actually a new roommate, and a somewhat new friend) shares this bathroom with me. Crazy enough, she wasn’t home yet when the epic almost-maybe-could be murder went down, so I was left with only one option: text her with the news that a horrible, terrible roach was on the loose in our bathroom, and we might have left it alive for her to find.
Roommate of the Year, right?!
She probably didn’t even blink. Moral of the story: fold laundry and choose brave roommates.