There's a difference, damnit.

Disclaimer:
Roommate, if you read this, please know I don't intend to harm, only vent. It's the way I handle it and I'm much nicer for it.


That said...

I am beginning to think my roommate doesn't know the difference between roomie and wife. Perhaps I am such good wife that the lines get blurred. I don't know, I have never been married. Except for Wifey. but that's different. She doesn't ask anything of me except my friendship, and that I happily give without complaint. ever. Truly, I am blessed.

SO. Just before Christmas, roomie asked me if I would use my amazing womanly sewing skills to mend her favorite jeans since they are all the pants she has since her other pants burned up in the fire. I spent quite a lot of time mending them, sewing up the air conditioning, even though I thought to myself that since they were wearing at the seams, perhaps they should be retired and new (or used) ones bought. One pair, as per request was patched with a heart and sewn with embroidery thread to make them prettier. The complaints when I was done were few, but they existed.

I'm not sure if I have mentioned the part of the story where she wanted me to cook her beef stew a day or two before I drove to LA for Christmas. Life got so busy right then with last minute preparations, gift making,and visits with B that I was unable to, but I still thought it a little strange.

I was praised highly last week for cleaning house. Really, I just brought it up to the standard I would keep it if I had more time and it weren't overwhelming considering the amount of creatures in the house. It briefly and gloriously smelled like windex and cleanser in here. About 10 minutes later, there were muddy paw prints in the kitchen and about 15 minutes later, it smelled like dog again. But HEY! I can clean any time I want! It looked great in here! (so said she. and B, dang him, backed her up. I don't think he realized how annoyed I was by the conversation)

I have another pair of pants to mend. They have been sitting for a week. Maybe I will get to them tonight...

Last night it was, "Hey! Make us some Pina Coladas!" But I didn't want to. Despite her asking, despite her telling me that they taste better when I make them. Despite her frustration when I scooped myself some ice cream instead. I told her that if she wanted one, he should make it. She tried to convince me that I wanted some too, And once she did make some, she tried to convince me to have a taste. I still refused. I can be, to put it gently, VERY stubborn.

Very.

Very.

Stubborn.

She also asked that if I made breakfast this morning, if I would make some eggs for her. To that I agreed. She noted that I will stuff myself with pancakes but not eat eggs. I don't like eggs. They make me feel sick. They don't bother me in pancakes. Or other cakes. But alone? nasty. But I was willing to scramble her up a couple if I made breakfast this morning. She wasn't up so I make orange-chocolate chip scones. They were tasty. They will still be tasty for breakfast tomorrow. She got up and made coffee for us.

Today? The question was, "What are you making for dinner?"

I explained that I didn't know. That B wanted to hang out tonight and I didn't know if that included dinner.

This is an odd pickle I have landed myself in...

She is far more demanding than any boyfriend (or roommate) I have ever had. D would say, "the house looks good" if I cleaned. C appreciated it quietly (if I remember correctly, I don't remember him mentioning it either way. Which was fine because I LIKED cleaning that house. it was easy). T preferred to be the one cooking...He never really said, but I could tell. That's okay, he never has to eat my cooking again. (He did like my baking and candy.)

pickle.