My Own Worst Roommate

There are hundreds of weird things about college ranging from the way college students cook to how they spend their free time (will someone please explain to me why someone can ask you to hang out at 10pm and it isn't that weird? I'm usually in my second REM cycle by the time some people are on their first round of the 'gallon challenge'.) but one of the truly weirdest things about growing up and moving out is the phenomena of roommates. My first two years of college, I moved in with completely random people. I'm no stranger to taking risks, as sometimes I walk under ladders and some nights I go to bed without flossing. All of these pale in comparison to moving in with a total stranger. One afternoon you're moving in your dishes and asking your roommate what their major is, and then just a few hours later you're sleeping under the same roof as them, still unsure what their little quirks are. Maybe they snore. Maybe they forget to close the refrigerator door. Maybe the whistle in that shrilly frequency you just can't stand, or maybe they're the roommate who has a boyfriend who never leaves the couch. The point is, you have no idea about this human being sleeping in the bed next to you, but there you go, putting all your trust in them, hoping they're not eating your Berry Colossal Crunch in the middle of the night. It really wasn't until my second year of college when I realized how odd this was, and as I was getting ready for bed that night and turned to my roommate who I had met just hours earlier, and said, "Hey, this is super weird to me. I just met you, and basically now I'm trusting you with my life. You could be a serial killer!" Then we laughed for a good long while. Then I lay in bed that night with one eye open.

I am pleased to say that I have had some really great roommates. However, there's one roommate that sometimes drives me up the wall: myself.

One day I remember leaving my bedroom to go work on a school project in the kitchen. I got my things and left the bedroom, only to set up my stuff and realize that I had forgotten something. I went back to my room and noticed that nobody was in the room, but the light was still on. I felt a little miffed that my roommate had forgotten to turn the light off. I certainly wouldn't consider myself a tree hugger, but I like to make sure we don't leave the lights on so that we don't have to pay a big electricity bill. I got what I needed and left the room. No more than 20 minutes passed by, and I realized that I needed a book from my room. I walked into my room and yet AGAIN, the light was on, but still no roommate. I was a little bothered now: in between the time I had been upstairs and turned off the light after her previous blunder and when I went to grab my book, she managed to come upstairs, turn the light on, and then leave again. What, was she raised by wolves?! Was mine truly the only elementary school that talked about the importance of conserving?! I left the room, only to come back at the end of my project with the light on again, blazing like the sun. AGAIN, PEOPLE. There I was, working hard on my homework, and all my roommate was doing was walking into our room, turning on the light and leaving, and destroying our environment one light switch at a time. I remember thinking how grateful I was that at least I wasn't trying to destroy our beautiful world. Good thing that there was someone like me to step in and yet again save the universe. Good thing I was not so OBLIVIOUS that I was costing my roommates more with our electricity bill. As I was congratulating myself for another job well done, my roommate walked in. I was about to inform her that NO she could NOT continue to get away with environment-wasting crimes such as these, when she shook some snow off her coat. And then I realized: my roommate had been gone the entire evening. She was just getting back from her night class. I had been at my apartment ALL ALONE. It was ME who kept forgetting to turn the light off. I would walk upstairs, realize the light was on, roll my eyes at my roommate, and then leave, with the light still on.

Yes, I truly am my own worst roommate. This summer I stayed in my own dorm room. One of the perks, besides being able to talk out loud to myself whenever I wanted, was being able to control the thermostat. It's not uncommon for there to be a thermostat war going on between roommates, and this time I wouldn't have to fight with anyone. I made sure to turn the thermostat down nice and low, so I could justify sleeping with my gigantic comfy quilt in the middle of the summer. The next morning, I awoke to GOOSEBUMPS on my arms, and I'm fairly certain I had to scrape frost off my desk. What kind of person thinks it's okay to make the dorm room Antarctica?! Oh yeah, that's right. ME. I made sure to turn that thermostat nice and high once I was able to crack the icicles off. I returned that night to my room which was actually not my room anymore and was instead an OVEN. I walked over to change there thermostat again, this time wishing I had oven mitts. Again: what kind of person tries to make their own Sahara Desert right in the middle of campus?! Oh, right. ME. This kind of thing went on all summer as I would pull myself out of bed in the middle of the night because SOMEONE decided that living in her own snow globe would be a great idea.

Yes, I am my own worst roommate. But sometimes, it's totally worth it.