Hobocamp

Friday, March 27, 2009

Oh, you guys. So sad, so sad. My poor little roommate has discovered yet another disadvantage to living with me. I mean, she's familiar with some of them already. I'll summarize

1) Inexplicable stains- "What is that on the ceiling?" "Coffee. Don't ask. I was just on my way to get a ladder to clean it. Sorry."

2) My erratic schedule- she will wake up for a seemingly middle-of-the-night pee, and I'll be in the kitchen, getting ready to leave for the day so I can go work a breakfast shift at my volunteer job. It is terribly disorienting.

3) Broken stuff- she understands now my stubborn refusal to drink out of her favorite wine glasses. They are pretty, and there are only two of them, so if I busted the hell out of one, she'd totally know.

There are more, including weird eating habits, bad memory, and having to listen to me fall up and down the stairs at least twice per day, but I digress.

Anyway, so we were supposed to get some furniture delivered today. Specifically, we were waiting on a couch, a coffee table, and two end tables. We measured carefully and extensively, and headed to the local shittily-made furniture warehouse to pick out some stuff. Way too many hours and not enough lunch later, we signed papers and gave credit cards and headed home with the abstract promise of a new davenport dangling in front of us like a textured beige carrot that could seat at least 4 across.

Obviously, we didn't get the furniture. For whatever horrific reason, our calculations and measurements were for naught because the crap didn't fit up the stairwell. Too bad, so sad. We helpfully suggested lots of angles to the delivery guys, and when none of them worked, my roommate said out of desperation "Maybe you can lift it over the back balcony?" and they looked at her and said "We don't hoist, ma'am." She was crushed. As I've mentioned before, she's not like me- she feels like apartments should have furniture.

I totally expected something like this, so I wasn't surprised in the least. But she was so sad! And to additionally complicate things, we're having a dinner party tonight. For 12 (not including us). Currently, we can offer them 4 dining room chairs, 2 living room chairs, or a hammock in which to sit.

Fortunately, we've decided that it's totally okay to do this bitch picnic style, so we've laid down blankets, candles, and baskets with bottles of wine and pretty linen napkins.

I feel compelled to warn my new roommate that this won't be her last brush with confusion and disappointment. Living with me is a hazard, to say the least.

Labels: accidents, on the homefront

posted by A Lover and a Fighter at 2:39 PM -

6 Comments:

At 10:39 PM, fathima said…

yeah, i think i'll know i've Arrived if i ever get around to owning a coach. in the meantime, i read 'bitch' in the second-last paragraph as an adjective, and i thought, hey that's a fantastic use of a word i don't often use. 'a bitch picnic' sounds, well, bitching. (sorry, i had to.)
At 10:41 PM, fathima said…

couch!
though a coach would be pretty effing incredible, too.
At 5:33 AM, peterdewolf said…

I think that roomie should have a blog.

(I read - and enjoyed - "bitch picnic" the same way as fathima at first.)
At 10:17 AM, jamelah said…

Now I'd like to have a bitch picnic.

Also, do you have a problem with exploding coffee too?
At 6:18 PM, Nicole said…

Yay for a whole bunch of Meg updates - my week sucked balls and then we had a giant hailstorm which I fear signals the coming end of the world, but then I got to read about Dr Poop and psychopathic doves and issues with soft furnishings, and my world got a little brighter.

Also, I am apartment hunting as well and I will follow your lead and refuse to feel obliged to have furniture in it immediately. If people don't want to sit on the floor they can bring their own lawn chairs, like a concert.
At 2:26 AM, Owl said…

My roommate has had similar revelations. I meet your 'weird eating habits and propensity for breakage of things' and add sleepwalks and sleeptalks. Beat that hot shot ;)