sharing space

living with someone is always tricky. i've had a few roommates in my time - not many, thankfully for both them and me - and most of the time i spent at home was furiously cleaning up after them while i muttered constantly under my breath. i'm sure they were being normal people in terms of neatness and general hygiene, but i enjoy the rituals of unrealistic expectations.

i've lived with boys a few times, also. some were fine, others were less fine. i've made the discovery over the years that the more metro a guy is does not equate to a similarly high level of cleanliness at home. some dudes wear fancy clothes but are unrepentant slobs. living with trevor has been fine so far - he is pretty messy naturally, but pays a lot of attention to what pisses me off and doesn't do repeats. most of the time. it's admirable, actually. if someone told me one of my habits irritated them, i doubt i would spin a 180 that quickly, if at all.

i've always had a very specific set of notions for how things are. both my sister and my parents are bewildered at this 1950s stepford wife mentality and from where it came. some of it is an offshoot of my ultra uptight, stepford wife grandmother. others involve the fact that expensive things should be treated nicely. i have a number of textiles and home accessories that ostensibly cost an arm and a leg, even if i got them for $5. regardless, it all snowballs into an ocd-inspired set of values and procedures, my internal set of guidelines, how things are. you don't wait until the next morning to wash dinner dishes. you fold towels in thirds. you scrub your ears with soap and a washcloth every day. beds have hospital corners, not to mention you always use both types of sheet, plus a blanket, plus a comforter, when you make your bed. the flat sheet cuff is turned over the blanket and pinned in place. sheets and towels are washed every week. anything containing lycra does not go into the dryer. a meal must be accompanied by napkins. you take your shoes off when you step on the bath rug. you don't wear outside clothes on or in bed. it goes on.

as trevor has made many concessions for my sake, i've made a few of my own. hospital corners are completely unrealistic and essentially ensure that i will be kept up all night, with the possibility that trevor will earn a black eye. i don't know if he was frustrated egyptian royalty in his past life, but he has issues with tucked-in sheets and feeling bound. he now gets the flat sheet to himself to do as he pleases; often i wake up and he has fashioned a rather dashing sheet scarf that wraps around his upper section and dangles on the floor. this i do not understand. he apparently believes that comforters are 5-cornered stars, because he pulls only corners towards him, which explains why everything is sideways when i inevitably wake up at 3 am, uncovered and exceedingly irritated. i bash him on the back a few times, then straighten the comforter to proper plane vs. angle positioning. bathroom rugs are for complete fools, especially if they are light colored, or god forbid, white. the first day that my parents arrived, i unpacked a white-patterned bath rug and put it on the floor. about 30 minutes later it was trampled, embedded with leaves and twigs, and shoved into a corner. i repeated the shake-out and straighten for 14 more of these days before giving up, something i rarely do. we do not have bath rugs on the floor. they are clean and folded nicely in thirds in what i like to call the linen area.

i don't know by what miracle of fate or what odds exist, but i have found likely the single person on earth who finds these "quirks" - i.e. how things should be - endlessly amusing and not a problem. it's strange - sometimes i feel that he actually wants to learn how civilized, rigidly unbending people live. it's more puzzling to me that after receiving a few kidney punches in the middle of the night for a crime of which he is not aware, he takes to giggling before falling asleep again. anyway, i don't know but i'll take it.

when i start working, i'm sure my tone will change, since i won't have the leisure time that i do now to ponder the bath rug struggle, or the retirement of hospital corners. i'll probably resort to alternating grumbling with yelling, as i am known to do. we'll see.