This week began with a picture of a baby boy. A sonogram sent by my sister and accompanied by a text, ‘It’s a boy!’. The first child, the first grandchild, the first boy in a family of daughters.
The weekend that my sister told me she was pregnant, it was amid the insanity of a Taylor Swift concert (of all things). A few days later, Lauren (my roommate of 4-5 years) told me that she was moving out, and in with Michael. The change was happening suddenly and I was absorbed in the chaos of work. I was completely disoriented.
Some weeks later, we began the arduous task of finding a new roommate. Through online groups like Craigslist and Bunz, we dismissed potential roommates with a reckless abandon, reading their short messages and yelling ‘NEXT!’. Our voices were filled with the confidence of a few summer balcony beers. We progressed to the interviewing portion which included several no-shows, a few bailers, a handful of worthy candidates.
But when we met Rae, I thought: HER. Sometimes when I meet a person I see something like a light shining out of them. This was the case with Rae. Because I knew that my male roommates wouldn’t understand the ‘light shining’ analogy, I decided to tread carefully with my powers of persuasion. Nobody likes to feel like they are being talked into things, but I could feel in my bones that this was the right choice. So, I was measured and fair and tried not to show any strong bias. For five minutes. I lasted FIVE minutes. I then spiraled into a series of threats and ultimatums. I held up the balcony. Gun to Steve’s head, screaming: “Pick Rae or say goodbye to Steve!”
I kid.
But soon after our very unanimous decision to choose Rae as a roommate, Steve did decide that it was time to say goodbye to Dovercourt. He relayed this decision on the first official day of a conference which would finish near the end of the month. The conference was a long, stress-filled week, and because of this, I had strategically planned a week of vacation almost immediately after. This meant that I had as little as 3 days to start and finish the roommate search. All over again.
I don’t know how the rest of the world functions after dealing with more than a hundred people over several 20 hour workdays. I however lose all feeling in my in my human sensing abilities. The thought of choosing a person to live with during this particular energy depleted moment seemed impossible.
So when the roommate topic came up before a concert with Janneke, she leaned in, raised an eyebrow, nodded all cool, and said “What if I were to move in?” I just about melted like a pad of butter.
It was a topic that Andrew and I had discussed briefly but dismissed quickly because Janneke is a goddess and would likely NOT cohabitate with us mere mortals.
At the concert, I spent the night trying to (once again) tone down my powers of persuasion. Janneke and I would dream a little about what it would be like to live together and then I would frantically punctuate the dream with “BUT NO PRESSURE, OKAY!”
…And then under my breath, like a man with a coat full of knock-off watches:
“But seriously, the room is yours if you want it”
We scheduled a viewing. It was at this moment that I realized that I had made some bold statements without considering Rae. She had just moved in A DAY previously, and I had steamrolled through without considering her. However, to my delight, it became clear after only 3 minutes, that Rae and Janneke probably enjoy each other more than they do me OR Andrew.
And the moral of the story is that I am always right, but I am not always the most popular.
I kidddd.
So Janneke has moved in. She cooked us a curry on one of her first nights and we sat around her teak table and talked and laughed. We beamed at each other. Little things like soap dishes and accent pillows have started appearing. There is a new energy at Dovercourt.
I have always said that I get live with my best friends. Then two of them moved out over the span of two months. My head is still spinning. But somehow, in the shadows of complete energy depletion, something exciting has sprouted.
A picture of a baby boy, a brand new micro-community. And as always, as much laughter as possible. The louder the better.
30 Minute Playlist: Gold Accents
Pictures of the week:
^Curry night
^The Informant (aka Andrew)
Progressively Louder Laughter 