March 3
Shawn has roaches.Not that I should be surprised by that. His nightstand is a
stack of old pizza boxes.
I was surprised,
however, when he showed up at my apartment at 7 o'clock this morning with a
duffle bag. Mostly because I didn't know he ever got up before noon.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded.
"Dude, we're gonna be roomies!"
(You'll notice he didn't even bother to ask me. He told me. Just like always.)
"Roomies? Why?"
I stupidly stepped aside and let him come in.
When will I learn?
He dumped his bag in the middle of my floor and threw his jacket and helmet on my chair.
He had only been there for five seconds, and my place was already a wreck.
"They're tenting my apartment building. Some unscrupulous person has roaches."
"Gee, I wonder who that could be. Why don't you stay with Lassiter?"
"Gus, please."
He kicked off his shoes (leaving a trail of mud on my carpet) and sprawled out across my couch.
My white couch.
Which now is speckled with black mud.
Where the hell did he find mud at 7 o'clock in the morning?
"Lassie wouldn't even open the door. I knocked for twenty minutes. He turned the sprinklers on me."
"So, I wasn't even your first choice?"
"You were totally in the top five. My dad didn't even make the top seven. It's a very competitive list, Gus. The point is, you win!"
"Lucky me."
Looking back, there were so many points in that conversation where I could have said no.
NO!
GO AWAY!
GET OUT!
Any of those.
But, I didn't.
I told him he could stay.
But I didn't tell him he'd survive.
March 4
Dishes in the sink, covered in what I can only hope is some ungodly mixture of Bisquick, molasses and chocolate sauce.
Mud all over my carpet.
Footprints on the wall (still don't get that one).
Dear God, what did I do to deserve this?