Dear Reader,
A week ago I moved into my house at college that I’m sharing with seven other girls. I am in “living room 2” with another girl, there’s a girl in the “dining room,” and then the other five live upstairs.
I was basically only acquainted with three people when I signed the lease, so these first seven days involved a lot of me getting to know them. In turn, they had to learn some things about me.
I’m not putting a picture of my real house on here, so here’s a random one from the internet that looks just as homey as mine. 🙂
Here are my realizations from week one:
Food. First of all, I know I’m not a great chef. I knew coming into this that I wasn’t going to be the roommate to cook five star meals for every dinner–but what I didn’t expect was for everyone else to do just that. My housemates are out here making fancy pastas and baking talapia and boiling corn on the cob, while I’m just sitting at the table eating my daily bowl of ramen noodles. There are even cookbooks in our kitchen. I might start perusing them as I eat my peanut butter sandwiches.
Speaking of peanut butter: I swear, some people have never seen a jar of peanut butter before in their life. Well, none that are the size of the kind I brought. I’m too lazy to check it right now, but it’s about four times the size of a normal one I guess and I’ve had a conversation with every last housemate about this fun fact.
Something else I’ve found myself doing is trying to be more subtle when I’m gross. I do a lot of gross shit, alright? Well, it’s not gross to me to let out the occasional burp or drink out of the milk jug, but I can see why that might cause someone to crinkle their noise. All that happens when I hide doing that stuff, or suppress my bad habits, is realize how many gross habits I have. It’s great.
Medical shit. We’re learning more about each other every day. We talk about our classes and our majors. We’ll mention the organizations we’re involved with and the meetings we have. We bring up our families and bring over our friends. But when is the appropriate time to mention low-key medical “quirks?”
When it becomes relevant I guess.
Every person I’ve ever lived with has found out about my POTS because I’ve had to send them a distress text asking them to bring me pretzels. So today when I came home to a full house after having a bit of an episode in our student center, I decided I should probably mention it soon. I mean, it’s not like they should be worried that I’m gonna drop dead on them or something–but if I come home and act weird or lock myself in my room or the bathroom–or if they see me with my legs in the air and my dad on speaker phone–it might be useful to let them into the loop.
TV/YouTube. I’ve also been way more self-conscience of what I’m watching (especially since I can’t find my headphones currently). You can see right into my room when you open the front door, and because my door is normally open, you might find me watching The Philip DeFranco show or a David Dobrik blog. I always forget how weird that stuff must sound to others.
Also, we all bring out our computers or other devices to watch shows when we’re cooking or whatever. I love playing the game is it Parenthood or Gilmore Girls? because hearing Lauren Graham’s voice isn’t quite enough to make the distinction. But then someone will walk into the kitchen while I’m watching Criminal Minds and cooking my eggs and there’s some rape or murder scene on my screen. Then we have a nice little chat about how disturbing we both find the show and discuss our new paranoias.
So it’s been an interesting few days. You can hear practically every noise in the house, so my daily naps have been a bit compromised (probably for the best, though). Other than that, I’m really digging this house and the people I share it with.
It’s gonna be a good year.
Sincerely,
Sammy
SINCERELY, SAMMY 