So for the next week, my roommate's boyfriend is here visiting. He's not just any boyfriend. They have been together five years; he used to live in this apartment with my roommate when he was getting his Ph.D.; they have had a long distance relationship for the past two years while he's working on the West Coast. They see each other maybe once every two months. So I do not begrudge my roommate having some quality time with him.
This apartment is indeed spacious, but it is clearly a two-bedroom. When someone is sitting at the kitchen table, they are taking up a lot of space, not to mention the counter top since we have none. There is only one bathroom with two hooks for towels. There is one TV. You see what I mean.
Anyway, I can get anal about some things...I admit that. One of those things is putting objects back in their place. Especially when space is limited, I am a stickler for returning food back to the pantry, throwing away trash left on the table, putting dirty dishes in the sink and not leaving them on the coffee table. Granted, the dishes don't have to be washed for days, just as long as they are getting crusty and moldy in the sink. And I admit, I don't have much patience with regard to this. That is, I want things in their rightful place right away.
The boyfriend is clearly not a stickler for these things. So last night, while they were out at dinner, I put things away: dishes, paper towels, food. This morning, I woke up, walked Ella and went back up to my room to do work. They woke up and he started bitching that he couldn't find his coffee that he left on our limited counter space and I returned to the pantry. They thought I was gone, so they were talking at a normal voice and I could hear ever word they were saying. And I very distinctly heard him call me a "psycho bitch." My roommate - always the compassionate one - said, "No, no. She's not a psycho bitch." That made me laugh.
I just went downstairs to get some cereal. My roommate was still home and expressed surprise that I was still in the house. I told her that I had been here the whole morning and had been wide awake the entire time. The song beneath my words said that I heard everything they said.
So now I don't have to be nice to him anymore. I won't be a "psycho bitch" or anything, but now I don't have to deal with him if I don't want to. I can enter my house and pretend he's not there. Which is what I wanted to do anyway, I just didn't want to be rude. Now I have an excuse. I am a psycho bitch after all. :)