Open Letter to My Future Roommate

Dear Roomie:

You seem really sweet and laid back. You waited and held your spare room for me for weeks while I investigated other potential shares with a number of unsuitable roommates. And now you genuinely seem happy that I'm moving in next weekend.

So for that, for all your sweetness and calmness and patience, I feel I must let you know what you're getting into by choosing to live with me.

I haven't been a roommate in nine years. I don't think I remember how to be a good one anymore. I don't think I ever knew.

I might buy my own toilet paper. I only like Angel Soft.

I might set the toaster oven on fire when cheese drips off a slice of leftover pizza I'm twice-baking.

I might cry a lot.

I might hide from you in my room.

I might leave dirty dishes in the sink for a long time.

I might drink too much wine and spill all my secrets.

I might blog about you.

I will try to take up as little room as possible in our small apartment we'll share, as my body slowly disappears and my possessions follow suit.

I will definitely walk around scantily clad in a nightie, because that's what I actually sleep in every night. I can't sleep with pants on.

I will pay the rent and the utilities. I will lock the door. I will turn off the stove.

I will leave the lights on because I don't like walking into a dark room.

I might not ask you how your day was.

I might not seem very happy to be there.

I might not stay very long.

O my roommate, I am heartily sorry for what I might do, and what I might fail to do.

Love,
Me

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