Yesterday, I cleaned my bathroom. And as I stood there, hands on hips, smiling with satisfaction at the newly crisp and gleaming surfaces, I thought to myself, If only it could stay this way for a little while.... Impossible, I knew, because my roommate makes messes in unbelievably short periods of time. And never cleans up after herself.

I remembered that the last time I'd cleaned the bathroom, she'd been out of town visiting her husband. How peaceful that was! And I thought, Too bad she couldn't go home for Thanksgiving...my day would be a little less lonely if it were just me tumbling family-less about my apartment instead of the both of us.

Today, I woke up and padded into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. I opened up the refrigerator and all the food on my roommate's side of the fridge was gone. I checked the cabinets and the silverware drawer. Forks, knives, spoons, tupperware, chopsticks---all of it, gone. Two minutes later, she appeared in the hallway and told me she's moving out. Today.

So I get my wish, but I also---sooner? later?---have to adjust to a roommate all over again. What if she's messier? What if she has loud friends over all the time? What if she brings bedpartners back to the apartment? ::shudders:: Our walls are like paper. I didn't really know my roommate, but I didn't dislike her. And I was at least used to her habits and attitudes. Heaven only knows who I'll get next.

I feel perversely abandoned.

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